Third Quarter Quell: The Seventy-Fifth Annual Hunger Games
by YJ Harper Row
Summary: (SYOT CLOSED) The butterfly effect says that one small change can alter the course of history. At the last moment, Seneca Crane chooses not to revoke the rule change, allowing Katniss and Peeta to win without the berries. No statement is made. No rebellion against the Capitol happens in the Seventy-Four Annual Hunger Games. One year later, the Quarter Quell begins. (berries verse)
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:**

**I do not own the Hunger Games book series. It is property of Suzanne Collins and the publisher Scholastic Press. The movies are owned by Lionsgate and other associated producers and creators. I am simply a humble fan, writing this for the enjoyment of other fans. Please support the official release.**

When Cray shook me awake, and said someone was waiting for me at the Justice Building, I feared the worst. For the first time in seventy-four years, the rules of the Hunger Games were changed, and not in the officially sanctioned way of the Quarter Quell. I've gone down in history as a mentor who's managed to do something no other Victor in history has ever been able to do; bring home two tributes in the same year.

Allowing the Peacekeeper to escort me to the Justice Building, hoping that I wasn't about to have a bullet put through my head. Or worse, having a meeting with the president. If Snow makes his way to meet with a Victor in the districts, it was a sign that the government had a personal stake in your life, even more so than a normal games Victor.

When the door opened, I'm surprised to come face to face with Plutarch Heavensbee. The grand conspirator of one of the two rebellion movements within Panem. The man who used his families high influential position within the Capitol to build a rebellion right under the nose of Snow.

"Sit down, Mr. Abernathy," Plutarch said, waving at the chair across the table from him. "Close the door behind you."

Closing the door, I take my seat, keeping my mouth shut. The Justice Building is bugged to high hell, and if I say the wrong thing, we'll both be hunger.

"You're looking at the new Head Gamemaker, you know?" Plutarch asked, sounding as if he was asking about the weather.

"I didn't," I admit. Other than when I'm in the Capitol to mentor, or being summoned for another function, I don't have contact with Heavensbee or the rebellion at large.

"Indeed. You see, Seneca Crane wanted to go down in history. He wanted to make sure he left his mark on the games, and he did. For the first time ever, we have two Victors from one game. His name will forever be linked to that. And for his efforts, he was fired," Plutarch said, meeting his eyes. I was expecting something, but I had assumed it would end with Crane dead, his family's assets taken by the government. Only fired? "He will never be allowed to work in the games again. A lifetime ban. He couldn't even get a job as a server on the tribute trains, but such is the consequences of his actions. Still, he has the fortune he made for him as he worked his way up from Assistant Gamemaker, so he'll be well off."

Like I cared if he was or not. Crane was a man of ambition, who wanted to become President one day. Snow had been a Head Gamemaker before his raise, and he wanted to follow in the man's footsteps. Despite being Head Gamemaker for only four years, he left his mark all right. Now he'll probably use his connections to get into politics, if the president hasn't blacklisted him.

"As the new Head Gamemaker, I've been given a single directive, which I've come to relay to you in person. This message is also being conveyed to every other Victor. President Snow has passed a law forbidding the change of rules of the Hunger Games, with the exception of the Quarter Quells. There will be no more Star Crossed Lovers," he said.

I didn't expect anything else. After Crane let Katniss and Peeta win, I heard he was angry. Snow was a student of the games. He studied them, and was a huge fan. When Crane decided to let the rule change stand after Katniss killed the boy from Two, I expected heads to roll.

"President Snow wants Katniss and Peeta to take over as mentors for Twelve," he continued after a moment. "You are welcome to assist them in their duties. You have a standing invitation to return to the Capitol each games as well, but the people want to see Katniss and Peeta. Well, after the Quarter Quell. As one of the two quell Victors, you are expected to mentor."

Being a mentor was bad enough, but the idea of doing it during a quell set my blood on fire. "I don't suppose you could tell me what the twist is this year?" I ask sarcastically.

I don't expect him to smile. "Actually yes. President Snow read the card early this year, just like he had before your games, Haymitch. As the new Head Gamemaker, he invited me to witness it. _On the seventy-fifth anniversary, as a reminded to the rebels that not even the strongest of them can overcome the power of the Capitol, the male and female tributes will be reaped from the families of their existing pool of Victors_."

I let that sink in. Anyone I was related to who was reaping age would be entered. Only against people related to Katniss and Peeta. A smaller pool of potential tributes than normal. I couldn't help it; I laughed. What a horrible twist. I guess I shouldn't have expected anything less from the original authors of the Quell. They put forty-seven other tributes in the arena with me.

"Before I go, I have some other business with you," Plutarch said, pulling out a small black box from his pocket. He set it on the table, and pressed the red square on the top. "There, now we can speak privately. This device is setting up an inference with the bugs, feeding them a pre recorded conversation. Beetee assures me this no one will notice anything. It will only last ten minutes though, so we had best be quick."

"That quell," I say. "Is it real?"

"You mean was it written by those who laid down the games seventy-five years ago? Yes it was. I suppose they thought at least each district would have one Victor by now, and they were right."

I lean back in the chair, closing my eyes. "Before I left the Capitol, you said District 13 was in?"

Plutarch nodded. "Yes. They've agreed to aid us in rebellion against the Capitol when we are ready to move," he says. He must have seen the look on my face, because he quickly continues: "That said, we are not ready- don't give me that look, Haymitch. I told you before that unless something big happened, it would be years before we're ready."

"How long are we looking at?" I ask, my fists clenched.

Plutarch looks me dead in the eye. "Our current time table puts use ready to move around the time of the eightieth games."

"The eightieth? Five years?" I hiss across the table.

Plutarch glares at me. "You've mentored for twenty-four years now. I think you can wait five more."

"Do you know how many tributes will die during that time? How many people Snow and his Peacekeepers will kill?" I demand, slamming my fist against the table.

"I don't have real numbers, but I know what you mean. I'm sorry, Haymitch. I really am. But we cannot be rash about this. If we fail, or get caught early, we'll all die. That means it could be decades, centuries, before someone tries it again. How many people will die during that time?" He asks. I'm too angry to answer.

"What about other rebellion?" I ask.

"I've told you not to concern yourself with them. Yes, they want to overthrow Snow and end the Hunger Games, but that's it. They want to continue with the way the government works now. The Capitol in power, the districts disconnected with each other. If they succeed, the Victors will be brought to the Capitol, given Capitol citizenship, and you all will be forced to live here for the rest of your lives. The games will end, and Panem will continue as it has since the end of the Dark Days, only without the distraction of the games. The districts will still be slaves to the Capitol."

He's right. I don't want that. I want real change, real freedom. If they won, I'd be a Capitol citizen, but I'd be stuck in that city I hate so much. For however long I live.

"Our plans now revolve around the eightieth games. We need to position key people in key positions, and get the districts ready for a full scale war. A revolution. Five more years of the current regime. For more years of Hunger Games. Then we'll do what no one has ever accomplished; we'll invade an arena, and rescue the living tributes, sparking the rebellion. I need to know if you can wait, Haymitch."

"I've waited this long, haven't I?" I say.

The red button on the box began to beep. "Good man," Plutarch said, pressing it. He grabbed it, sliding it back into his pocket.

"It was a pleasure speaking with you Mr. Abernathy, but a Head Gamemakers job is never done. Please relay my congratulations to Mr. Mellark and Ms. Everdeen. They're to be married a month after the Quarter Quell. In the Capitol. I have an invitation to attend."

Without Plutarch swept out of the room, and a Peacekeeper I recognized as Purnia come in. "I'll escort you home, Mr. Abernathy."

**Author's Note:**

**Hello. Welcome to the Third Quarter Quell: The Seventy-Fifth Annual Hunger Games.**

**Apologies, but this chapter is not beta'd. As such, it is full of mistakes. I plan to get a beta, but I wanted to put this out here as soon as possible. I want to see if this kind of AU SYOT story would be interesting to people. If not, I'll delete it.**

**I know it was never stated in canon if Plutarch knew about the quell (in the books, not counting the movies) but I made the choice to allow it. Since the Seventy-Fourth games didn't spark a rebellion, Snow had no need to effect change in the quell, and as such, Plutarch was allowed to be in the room when he read.**

**I love AU's, and the idea of the butterfly effect intrigues me. One small change is all it takes to make a world of difference, as evidenced here by the changed events of the Seventy-Four Hunger Games. I wondered how the events might change if the rule of two Victors were never revoked, allowing Katniss and Peeta to win without the berries. So I've decided to write this as a SYOT story.**

**I believe this chapter has set up the premise of my idea fairly well. Katniss, Peeta and Haymitch will be main characters who will be involved heavily, but as this is a SYOT story, so will your OC's.**

**So, if you want to take part, I have some rules. As stated above, every tribute reaped in this game must be related to a Victor somehow. All of Peeta has one brother who can be reaped at eighteen years old, and Katniss only has one sibling, a sister. Haymitch's only brother was killed before he could have kids, so any tributes related to Twelve's Victors have to be cousins at least (unless it's Peeta's one brother, which you can make into an OC)**

**For the games, Volunteering is suspended, unless you are related to a Victor.**

**Training for the games is illegal, so unless you come from One, Two or Four, you characters cannot be trained. Ever siblings of Victors in the career districts are pressed into training, just in case the Capitol reaps them. So for our career district tributes, they must be trained.**

**No Katniss characters please. The only weapon a non career might know how to would be a knife, as its legal for district citizens to own them. If they come from a district that uses weapons for their export (such as a sickle from the grain fields of Nine. Or an axe from Seven. A pickaxe from Twelve is possible, if they're eighteen and work in the mines), they can know how to handle those weapons. Otherwise, they cannot know how to use a bow and arrow. A spear. A sword. You get the point. They might be able to learn the basics at training, but they won't be a match for the careers.**

**If you want to submit a tribute, fill out the form below, and Pm it to me. If you're submitted a character from a district with at least one named Victor (Chaff and Seeder from Eleven, for example) you must have them related to those canon Victors. If you want to submit a character from a district with no canon Victors I have a list of OC winners on my profile, which gives the games they won and some information about them. You can only make relatives from these OC Victors, as I have a Victor from every canon Hunger Games created. While Porter Millicent is technically canon and can be used, I have other OC characters from Five if you want to use them, since she was never named in the books.**

**If you want to make a character from One, Two, or, the names of each districts career Acadmey is on my profile.**

**If you want to make a character from Six, please Pm me before you start. I have some information about these districts in my AU world that you will need in order to make them.**

**Okay, the submissions have now closed. We have all the tributes we'll need, and I want to thank everyone who has submitted their tributes to be murdered!**

* * *

**Also. I will be keeping a list of spots open on this chapter, and will update it as spots are filled, so please check back here regularly. If you're interested.**

**D1M: Gleam Delmas**

**D1F: ****Helene Dulac**

**D2M: Ryker Bedford (Nephew of Lyme Gillian)**

**D2F: ****Cassandra Arellius**

**D3M: Haiji Akabane**

**D3F: ****Rance Walker**

**D4M: ****Neptune Odair**

**D4F: ****Margaret Cresta**

**D5M: NPC**

**D5F: NPC**

**D6M: Romeo Night**

**D6F: Kia Railway**

**D7M: NPC**

**D7F: ****Sequoya Gardner**

**D8M: NPC**

**D8F: NPC**

**D9M: Wallace**** Branwell**** (Grandson of Isabella)**

**D9F: ****Maisie Rosale (Only child of Amelia)**

**D10M: ****Wren Hyde**

**D10F: NPC**

**D11M: NPC**

**D11F: NPC**

**D12M: Rye Mellark**

**D12F: Nelly Conway**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:**

**I do not own the Hunger Games book series. It is property of Suzanne Collins and the publisher Scholastic Press. The movies are owned by Lionsgate and other associated producers and creators. I am simply a humble fan, writing this for the enjoyment of other fans. Please support the official release.**

"Hmm," Coriolanus Snow hummed to himself, staring at the pictures on his desk. Peeta Mellark smiled up at him from his Victory photo. Katniss Everdeen scowled.

Had Mellark won, he would have been one of his better Victor's. His attitude was just the kind Snow preferred in his ring of Victor's. He would have been able to make the clients feel special, really get to know them, drawing them back again and again for his services. He would no doubt take that charm to his job as a mentor. He would be popular with the sponsors in a way Abernathy was not. Though with Abernathy's connections.

Katniss Everdeen would do whatever it takes to protect her sister. She would be the girl his more... Rowdy customers, preferred. Pure and innocent in the matters of sex, and more willful than many of his past Victors.

So willful in fact, he had a suspicious she might not go along with her marriage. She might try to run away. No, he couldn't allow one of his most popular Victors to do that. District 5 was in need of new Head Peacekeeper. Perhaps Cray would be interest in the job. Thread would make a good deterrent against any potential flight. She was a hunter; so was her _cousin _Gale. Had it been any other district, Coriolanus might have them cracked down on immediately, but Twelve was the most backwater. As long as they completed their coal quota, he would allow them to continue their hunting. Well, and as long as Katniss Everdeen knew what was to be expected of her.

Seneca Crane should have revoked his rule change. He should have followed the rules to the letter, and made them fight it out. He wanted to leave his mark, and how he had. And he had paid for it with his career. Now the fool wanted to work in politics. As if Coriolanus would ever allow that. The man was lucky that he would not punish his son for his crimes. Iskandar Crane would be allowed to continue his education at his affluent school, and one day join the ranks of the Gamemakers. Hopefully he would be smarter than his father.

Still, the fool did present him with a new opportunity. The novelty of two Victors would not wear off soon. With the upcoming wedding, the relationship would be a great distraction. Two Victors from the same game, starting a family. In the future, he would make sure their children were reaped, though not all of them. Enough to continue the family line, to ensure their children's children would pay the price for Seneca's folly.

"Mr. President?" His secretary's voice came through the intercom on his desk. "Plutarch Heavensbee is here to see you."

"Send him in," Coriolanus said. His new Head Gamemakers was not the fool Crane was. Heavensbee would not make such a mistake. The man in question entered the room, and silently sat down on the other side of his desk, waiting until he was addressed. Crane would already be talking. Such an improvement.

Coriolanus reached his hand out, and tapped a button on his desk. A hologram of an arena appeared. An artificial island, designed like a clock. An inventive idea, but one that would surely cut the tributes down quickly. The games would be over quickly, and that was unacceptable. The Quarter Quell was to be a grand spectacle. Not over in the blink of an eye.

When he addressed his concerns, Heavensbee smile. "I agree. A promising design, but not for a quell. As you know, arena's are not built in a day."

Coriolanus did know. There were five whole specialized teams that worked around the year, each one focusing on their own arena. Other than when the games themselves were in session, they were in constant contact with the Gamemakers, led personally by one of the five Assistant Head Gamemakers.

"We have five arena's in various stages of construction. Two are complete, and are ready to go. One of them the clock arena," he said.

Snow hummed. "The other?"

"A chain of five islands, connected by a land bridge. Each one a different terrain," Heavensbee said.

It was an interesting idea, but not for a quell. The first quell arena had been literal hell on Earth. The second quell was a literal paradise, though a poisoner one at that. Of course they had removed the poison as it opened for tourists, but that's besides the point. For the next quell, he wanted something grand. Like hell or a paradise.

"Well, we have one that's close to being finished," Heavensbee said. Tapping a few buttons on his side of the desk, another arena appeared. A towering white palace, surrounded by a forest. Great walls protected the courtyard and the palace itself from the terrors of the forest. He read through the information that was available, and a smile crossed his bloodied lips.

"Perfect. How soon can it be finished?" Coriolanus asked.

"If we take construction workers off the other arena's off the other arena's, in time for the quell."

"See to it Heavensbee. This is our arena," he declared.

"I shall see to it, sir," his Head Gamemaker promised.

"See that you do. One last thing, Heavensbee. Primrose Everdeen," he mused.

Plutarch cocked his head. "What about her?"

"See that her name is removed from the reaping. She will end up in the arena one day, but I don't think it will be in the quell," he decided.

"Of course, Mr. President."

* * *

When Haymitch came over to his house, and asked Peeta to take a walk with him, he was surprised. It was the first time his mentor had ever come to his house. For any reason.

They walked through Twelve, not stopping as they reached the town. Theu continued to walk, all the way to the Seam. "Where are we going?" Peeta asked, staring at the dark haired children as he past.

"To the house I lived in before I won the games," Haymitch answered.

When he arrived, Peeta was surprised to see Gale Hawthorne. He turned to look at Haymitch, but he shrugged. "Unlike other districts, we don't have have a large rebel base. He'll be able to help with that. Unlike you, Katniss and me, he isn't going to be watched by the Capitol as closely," he said.

"If Thirteen is going to hold up their end of the bargain," Gale said, crossing his arms.

Peeta frowned. "Thirteen? As in District 13? It was destroyed," he said. Everyone knew that. The Capitol bombed it to hell at the end of the war that gave them the Hunger Games.

Gale looked at Haymitch. "You didn't tell him?" He asked.

"That's what I brought him here for," Haymitch said.

"Where's Katniss?" Gale asked.

Haymitch snorted.

"Okay, now I'm really confused," Peeta said, speaking before Haymitch could. "What didn't you tell me?"

Haymitch sighed. "District 13 isn't destroyed. They struck a deal with the Capitol at the end of the last war."

"The Capitol let graphite miners strike a deal?" Peeta asked incredulously.

"They didn't mine graphite, Peeta. Well, they did, but that wasn't their real industry. Their real industry was nuclear research. Weaponry," his mentor admitted.

"Like Two," Peeta said. "It's officially masonry, but that's where most of the Peacekeepers come from."

Haymitch "They had a stock pile of bombs, which they aimed at the Capitol. The Capitol had set up their own miles, and aimed them back. Mutually assured destruction. So Thirteen quietly succeeded from Panem. They've survived underground this whole time. They have nuclear weapons, but also conventional. Guns, bullets, hovercrafts. They can produce weapons. Enough to fight a war with."

As he finished, it clicked for Peeta. "They've agreed to support a rebellion? Against the Capitol?" He asked, not daring to hope. Until that moment, he had believed he would spend the rest of his life as a Victor. Forced to marry the girl he loved against her wishes, mentor children to die in an arena. Have children of his own with that girl, against her wishes, and possibly mentor them as they're sent into the games. He was going to spend the rest of his life as a distraction. Was it true? Was there a way out?

"They have," Haymitch agreed. "Now, before either of you get your hopes up, it isn't going to happen anytime soon. We're looking at five years before we're ready to act."

Five years? Five years of living a life of as a mentor? One of nightmares, watching kids he got to know die? Now that the possibility was there, that he wouldn't have to live the life the Capitol forced on him, he wanted out. Right then and there. He didn't want to mentor tributes, only to watch them die. He didn't want the girl he loved to be forced to marry him. He wanted her to marry him because it was her choice.

"And no, it isn't going to happen soon," Haymitch said harshly when he opened his mouth. "I'm sorry, but the powers that be have a plan. And they won't move until they're ready."

"So, what? They just expect us to wait?" He demanded.

"That's exactly what we're supposed to do. Wait. And in the meantime, help position the right people in the right places. That's why Gale is here. He knows the people around Twelve, like Katniss. From his time hunting. Even know, he's working with the miners. He's one of them. That's useful for our cause."

"You said Twelve didn't have an active base of rebels. That's what Gale is here for?" He asked.

Haymitch grinned. "You got it."

"What about our families?" Peeta asked. His mind immediately went to his parents and brother, Mrs. Everdeen and sweet little Prim. Even Gale has siblings and a mother.

"District 13 has agreed to take them in." Haymitch replies. "Your wedding will be after the Quarter Quell. So we've come up with a plan. It will be to suspicious to grab them while you and Katniss are both in the district. So when we go to mentor in the Quell, members of a District 13 strike team will be sent to Twelve. We already have a cover. You family, as well as Katniss's will go to Gale's family home. Since he's officially her cousin, it will look like members of the family getting together to discus wedding plans. The team from Thirteen will escort them out of the district when the power goes off. The has three artificially created human bodies, which match the exact proportions of your family members. Down to dental records. They'll leave the bodies, and ignite the house. The false bodies will be burned beyond the Capitol's abilities to identity them. The dental records will match."

"While we're mentoring, our family's will _die_. We can't be blamed for anything; we're in the Capitol. So I take it Gale is staying behind?" Peeta asked, turning towards the boy.

He nodded. "I'll be in the mines," he says.

"So, why aren't we telling Katniss?" He asks. The question causes Haymitch to laugh.

"She can't act to save her life. Her reaction to Prim and Ruth's deaths have to be real. If she doesn't play the part perfectly, it could blow the whole operation. We'll tell her after the games, when we're back in Twelve. She might be mad, but her sister and mother will be safe in District 13, far away from the Capitol's power."

Peeta didn't like the idea of lying to Katniss. But the chance for his brothers and parents to escape Twelve, to be far away from the Capitol's reach... That made him agree. He would go forward with this for the sake of the family's involved.

"After the _death_ of her family, the Capitol will be making sure they keep an eye on her. They'll most likely allow her to continue to hunt, but they won't take any chances. I doubt they'll let you out of the district at all Peeta. Nor will they let Gale hunt with her. You two will be the two they watch to keep her in line. She makes a run for it, all three of us will die," Haymitch says, his voice serious. "Peeta. You need to make sure she understands that. Our lives are depending on it."

Peeta nodded.

**Author's Note:**

**Okay! This will be the last chapter released before we get into the actual tributes. I thought it would be interesting to get a chapter from Snow and a few others, so here we are.**

**This chapter has be reuploaded. I made a mistake on it and had to fix it. I didn't know I could update it without taking it down**


	3. Chapter 3: Reaping Part 1

**Disclaimer:**

**I do not own the Hunger Games book series. It is the property of Suzanne Collins and the publisher Scholastic Press. The movies are owned by Lionsgate and other associated producers and creators. I am simply a humble fan, writing this for the enjoyment of other fans. Please support the official release.**

_Reaping_

**Mags Flanagan**

**Victor of the Eleventh Hunger Games**

Walking down the halls of the Trouble Youth Center, memories of almost sixty years assaulted her. She had followed the example set by One and Two, seeing how effective their own career programs were. Her first ever Victor, Sinbad, had convinced President Summer to allow her to start her school. Sinbad was dead now, but she could see the confident seventeen-year-old, his golden locks hugging his face, smiling as he promised to be Four's next Victor. In those very early days, all her tributes promised that, but he was the one she trained in secret. He was the one who came back to her. How unfair it was that she outlived her first Victor.

After his win, President Summer had granted her a huge piece of land in one of the abandoned villages. They were allowed to buy weapons from the Capitol, and actively train, under the guise of a center for the troubled youth of the district.

Mags didn't care for glory. The so-called honor the Victors from Two loved to go on and on about. No, she created her Academy to protect the youth of District 4. The ones who weren't trained. The ones who wouldn't survive the arena. She had sold her soul to do it, and if she had to make the choice again, she would.

Hopefully, that choice would never have to be made again. Mags had spent her life working towards the downfall of the Capitol, and they were closer than they had ever been before. She knew she didn't have many years left, but if the god her parents fervently believed in was real, she prayed she would live to see Four freed from the games. From Snow.

"Mags?" A familiar voice called. The old woman turned, giving Caspian Nyle a small smile. The boy was one of her Victors. Well, every Victor in the district was hers, as far as Mags was concerned, but she had personally mentored him. Caspian was the last tribute she pulled out of the arena before Finnick. After Finny, she retired as an official mentor, using her various connections in the Capitol for the benefit of her district as a whole.

Caspian won the Fifty-Ninth, one of the more brutal years.

"Come on. It's almost time for the reaping," Caspian says, crossing his well-muscled arms. "Tacitus wants to see you before he starts pulling names."

Mags nodded, Tacitus had become District 4's escort the year before Finnick won, by her own political maneuvering. Not only was he one of Plutarch's more brilliant agents, he treated the tributes like they were real people. And when a boy or girl came back to Four, he always offered a shoulder to cry on. "I suppose I should offer him some tea."

**Margaret Cresta**

**District 4 Female Tribute**

Margaret stared at herself in the mirror, admiring the deep blue dressed. Her sister had purchased it from the Capitol. A Cinna originally. The Girl-on-Fires stylist had opened up his own fashion studio, along with his district partner Portia. He had become Katniss Everdeen's personal stylists and declined the invitation to become Four's stylist.

The outer districts tended to only have the better stylists for a little bit. Once their talent became known, One, Two, and Four tended to grab them up. If what Finnick had said was true, Cinna and Portia rejected One and Two just as firmly as Four. He said Katniss Everdeen was the only tribute he would consider, the same as Portia said about Peeta. Of course, if the rumors were to be believed, the two were planning to retire from after these games, having already made their mark.

Eventually, the hunger games warmed its way into her mind. This reaping would put her in even more danger than before. The Third Quarter Quell would only reap kids related to Victors. Only allow volunteers related to Victors. On a normal year, the citizens of District 4 didn't have to worry about being reaped. Almost every year Four had volunteers. Not for glory, or to bring the district honor, but to keep their unprepared children out of the games.

This year most of their trained candidates couldn't volunteer. If Margaret was going to get reaped, this was the year it was going to happen. And if she got Reaped, she might never come home.

_Margaret! Don't think like that! _She chastised herself. Thinking like an outer district isn't going to help her. She had the training that only her district partner and kids from two other districts had. If she got reaped, she would join the alliance, surrounding herself with the best, and they'd whip out at the other tributes. When it broker, she would kill her way to the top.

After seeing what the games did to her older sister, the last thing Margaret wanted was to go into the games. The Victor's were supposed to get a life of luxury, but she had seen first hand what the games really did to someone. The money helped care for her sister, but Margaret would give almost anything to have stopped Annie from volunteering five years ago.

Before she had gone into the games, Annie had been a confident girl, always on the lookout for fun and adventure. She had been the model career, and when she was reaped, she led the pack with an iron fist. Until the boy she loved had his head cut off in front of her. It destroyed her, and the sister she had grown to know shattered.

"Margaret!" Her mother called, drawing her attention away from her thoughts. Her mother was dressed in the Pearlie white uniform of the Peacekeepers. Margaret knew that Peacekeepers took a twenty-year commitment not to have children or start a family, but somehow her mother had gotten around that rule. The best Margaret could figure is her mom's family had some pull with the higher-ups in the Peacekeepers and defense, and she could get around the rules with those connections.

If that was the case, she didn't have the pull to make sure her children didn't go into the Hunger Games. She couldn't stop Annie from volunteering and losing her.

"Yeah?" She answered back.

"It's time to head down to the reaping. Make sure your sister goes with you. If Etta wants to keep her internship with the mayor, she can't be seen being late for the reaping," Gloria Cresta said. Unlike her husband and children, Margaret's mother didn't have to attend the reaping. She wasn't a citizen of Four and a Peacekeeper at that.

Margaret couldn't do anything about Perla. Even since her older sister got her own boat (a gift from Finnick on her birthday) she had been out at sea. The Capitol didn't have a navy, only a small fleet of patrol boats to patrol the shores. A navy would never play a larger part in the govern ship of Panem, not when they had Hovercraft superiority. So having your own boat, going out at sea was the closest thing to being free a citizen from Four could get.

The boat had brought about a strange change in Perla. Before she could never take anything seriously, always one with a laugh etched on her lips. Even her boy toys weren't anything more than that. Out at sea, things were different. She could really come into her own. She had a small crew and a decent-sized business in bringing in fish. Though she never lost her carefree attitude.

When Margaret checked Etta's room, she wasn't surprised to find it empty. She wondered why her mom even bothered asking about her. Etta wanted to go into politics and had been hanging by the mayor ever since she got her internship. The highest office she would ever be able to hold under the system was mayor, so she was getting a head start on it. Unless their mother could pull some strings. It might be possible, considering she had enough influence to break the no family rule.

Checking herself in the mirror one last time, Margaret reluctantly left her house. Ever since Annie's Victor, she and her family have lived in Victor's Village with her sister. Annie couldn't bear to be apart from then, and in her fragile mental state, doctors were afraid of leaving her by herself. Not that Margaret was a big of it either.

After most of her life by the sea in a small town, Victor's Village was a big change. The huge house and luxury were foreign to her. Even now, five years later, she woke up in silk sheets feeling like she didn't belong.

If she was reaped, and she came home, Margaret would have to get used to it.

Victor's Village connected with the main settlement in the district. Situated on top of a cliff, it overlooked the sea. Easily the best view in all of District 4.

At the edge of the village, Margaret started down the track that leads to the town. If she wanted to, she could call a car, but today she decided she'd rather walk. The sun was out, and the summer breeze felt warm against her skin.

Margaret wondered if she would get to see Damon and Isa before the reaping began. She hadn't seen much of her best friend since the announcement of the quell twist. Isa had been the chosen volunteer this year until not being related to a Victor removed that chance for her. Personally, Margaret was thankful her friend would never be thrown into the arena, not that she would ever say that to Isa's face.

And then there was Demon. She missed him so much, but with the chance of going into the games, Margaret couldn't stay close to him. If worse came to worse, it would be better for him.

**Neptune Odair**

**District 4 Male Tribute**

Walking down from the village to the town took half an hour at a leisurely, but Neptune didn't have time for such a pace. He had to get down to the town square before the reaping started.

Every child or sibling of a Victor trained in Four. In a normal decade might have one or two years were no one volunteers, but they usually fronted a career. After his older brother won, his parents forced him to train, and at the time Neptune couldn't why. Unless he was unlucky enough to be chosen on one of those very unlike years Four didn't have a volunteer ready, he would never go into the arena even if he was reaped. Now that the quell had been announced, Neptune was very glad his parents forced it on him. If he was reaped, he'd be prepared.

Neptune made it into town with time to spare. A new personal record. Unlike his older brother, Neptune didn't inherit his mother's golden locks, but like Finnick, he had his father's eyes. Also, like Finnick, he was beautiful. No other way around it. The same genes that ran through him had made his brother the defacto sex symbol of the Capitol. If this was a normal year, and he ended up a tribute, his looks might have granted him a similar fanfare as his brother. But every tribute in the arena was related to a Victor, and he wouldn't stand out as much.

"Put a shirt on!" One of the old ladies yelled at him as he passed. Dressed in just swimming trunks and sandals, he was easily showing off more skin than anyone else in the town right now. If he was chosen (there was a good chance it would be him) Neptune swore no one in Panem would forget just who he was related to.

Making it to the square with time to spare, Neptune sighed into the Reaping and took his spot with the few other legible eighteen-year-olds. Standing in his place, Neptune got a lot of looks. He stood striking and grand, a wry smirk at the edge of his smile, taking in everything with a wink.

Four places down in the fourteen-year-old section, he could see his brother Poseidon giggling. When he caught his brother's eye, Neptune winked.

Of the three Odair brothers, Finnick was the only one who escaped being named after a sea god. He had asked his parents only once why then gave him and his younger brother such... Capitol sounding names. His grandfather had overheard and spotted the rhetoric he had been fed his whole life. Old Ririck Odair (rest his soul) had been one of the few loyalists that remained in the district, and he had been the one to pressure his parents into giving him more ridiculous sounding Capitol names.

As Neptune allowed his thoughts to continue to roam, the Square filled up more and more until the mayor took the stage. Neptune focused his attention on the stage as the Treaty of Treason was read. Like every year, he turned it out, waiting until their escort finally took the stage.

Tacitus wore a dark blue shirt, with silver star's sown in. Matching his ridiculous silver hair. "Well, let's start with the lucky young man first!" He decided, going toward the bowel. Neptune held his breath and waited until he walked back to the microphone. He opened the slip, and for a moment Tacitus's gaze remained on the paper.

"Neptune Odair!" He cried happily. Honestly, Neptune had been half expecting that outcome. Finnick Odair was easily the most famous Victor from Four at that moment, and here his little brother was, strong and hale. Eighteen years old, and no doubt ready to fight and kill like his older brother.

Taking a deep breath, Neptune forced his face to remain in the same position, willing his body not to give away how nervous he felt. Climbing the stage, he shook hands with Tacitus and turned to give his districts the most cocky smile he could manage.

"And now for the lucky young lady!"

That lucky young lady turned out to be none other than Margaret Cresta. Finnick loved her sister so much, and Neptune lived in his house. He was more than a family with an eighteen-year-old girl climbing the stage. He would never tell him, but she was easily the best looking girl in the district. Neptune might be going into that arena, but he would be the one walking out, attractiveness of his district partner aside.

As he shook hands with her, Neptune regretted that it had come to that, but he was not going to die.

**Plutarch Heavensbee**

**Head Gamemaker/Rebel Leader**

Alma Coin's grey eyes bore into his. They vaguely reminded him of the eyes of Katniss Everdeen and Haymitch Abernathy. Though not like. These eyes lacked something that the bright grey eyes of the Seam people did not. These eyes haunted his nightmares, in the same way President Snow's roses did. The president of District 13 was no someone Plutarch wanted to deal with had he had any other option. Thirteen was their lifeline. Without the district, their rebellion would never succeed.

"Madam President. What your asking for is-"

"Doable," she cut in, glaring at him. "Before it was impossible. Now that you're Head Gamemaker, new doors are open to us."

Plutarch closed his eyes and resisted the urge to rub his temples. It was true, as Head Gamemaker he could benefit the rebellion in a way that he never could have before. It was only his position that made him comfortable enough to even attempt to invade the arena when they made their move.

"You want me to rescue a tribute," Plutarch repeated. The President of District 13 nodded. "Other than last year, only one tribute makes it out of the arena alive."

She should know that. Alma might not have lived in Panem proper, but Thirteen was able to pick up the games broadcast. She had watched her fair share of games. She should know that the arena was protected against outside interference.

"And officially, that will happen," Coin confirmed. "But we are ready to create an artificial of the tribute in question. With you overseeing the event, it should be quite easy to make sure the body is passed off as real. We have five more games until we're ready to move. I want one tribute from each of those games, if at all possible."

"If I'm discovered trying to get a tribute out of the arena, I'll be executed. Our plans hang on the Head Gamemaker being our agent," he tried to explain. Again.

"As I understand it, three of the Gamemakers below you are your agents. Two of them publicly have positioned themselves against you, haven't they?" She asked.

"A contingency plan, madam president. If I'm discovered, one of the two that have always been trying to usurp my position might be given the job. Thus we can keep on track," he said.

"So if one of them is discovered, the evidence won't lead back to you," she said, her voice devoid of emotion.

"That's true. But it would put one of my most useful agents in danger-"

"The benefits of a living tribute is enormous. You yourself argued that. The propaganda that we could use them far outweighs the risks, does it not?" She threw his words back in his face.

"Yes. When I gave the suggestion, I meant a few years later. Once we have a greater network in the games," he reiterated. As Head Gamemaker, he was in the position to station his agents all throughout the Game's system. He had already started. "Trying to get a tribute out this early-"

She raised her hand to stop him. "You've made your point, soldier Heavensbee. If you think it's too dangerous, our other operations take priority. If you find a chance to do it right, I expect you to try."

"Of course," he answered. It was hard enough when he was serving just one president. Now he had two breathing down his neck, both asking for more and more.

Alma Coin nodded and the communicate cut out. Breathing a sigh of relief, Plutarch deactivated Beetee's device, slipping into his pocket. It was always a risk contacting Thirteen in the Capitol, but it was one he had to take. Now that it was over, he could just relax for a little bit, and prepare himself to become the Head Gamemaker again-

"Sir?" Fulvia's voice cracked in his ear. "Your car is here. The Gamemaker meeting will begin soon."

So much for his time to relax.

**Author's Note:**

**Hello! I hope you have enjoyed the reaping chapter! A big thanks to Finnick18 and ****A Proud Bibliophile for our D4 tributes**

** I plan to leave the first two chapters on beta'd, and just focus on this chapter and what comes after. Save some time and all.**

**So how I've decided to do this is break each day into chapters. This will be the only Reaping POV, because I feel like they'd all become repetitive if I did more. Sorry about the change in plans.**

**One chapter for the train ride, which will focus on one tribute's POV from three different districts.**

**I'll have a Capitol character POV for the opening ceremony/parade ride.**

**Each day of training will comprise one chapter, with multiple POV's in each chapter.**

**The interviews will most likely be from Caesar's POV or an audience member. Possibly a Victor or mentor**

**The Bloodbath will be from the POV of an audience member.**

**Each day in the arena after the initial bloodbath will be broken up between multiple POV's, from tributes and spectators like.**

**Finally, when the Victor wins, the rest of the story will be told from (mostly) their POV.**


	4. Chapter 4: Train Ride

**Disclaimer:**

**I do not own the Hunger Games book series. It is the property of Suzanne Collins and the publisher Scholastic Press. The movies are owned by Lionsgate and other associated producers and creators. I am simply a humble fan, writing this for the enjoyment of other fans. Please support the official release.**

_Train Ride_

**Romeo Night**

**District 6 Male Tribute**

His grandfather was the first Victor District 6 had ever had in the games. He won over fifty years ago. Romeo had seen pictures of Aero when he had gotten out of the arena. The pictures of a young, hale boy, ripped from his home but refusing to die. Without bringing his ego into it, Romeo could see the resemblance between himself and the young Victor.

The old man sitting across from him had long lost the youthfulness of Panem's nineteenth Victor. His handsomeness had given to age. His coal-black hair was completely grey, falling down past his ears. But the strength that carried his grandfather to victory remains. Romeo could see it in his eyes, as the old man buttered his biscuit.

All four of Sixes' Victors were alive, but only two of them made the short journey to the Capitol. Tamora and Router had been declared unfit to mentor due to their addiction, leaving an old man and bitter woman to guide the tributes of Six.

"You're never this quiet at home," his grandfather said, breaking the silence. Romeo watched as he lathered the biscuit in jelly. "You're always so... Perky. Upbeat. You haven't said a word since you got on the train."

His grandfather would know. He had known Romeo since his birth. He had been the one to buy his father and mother a fancy house in Upper, far away from the crime-ridden world of Lower. Even now he officially employed his son and daughter-in-law as his personal housekeepers, paying them more money than the mayoral salary. As such, he had always been in Romeo's life, even down to convincing him that attending school in Lower would be good for his outlook.

"Are you afraid?" Aero Night asked, putting the top of his biscuit back on. His eyes bored into Romeo's.

"Yes," he admitted, looking down at the table. He was afraid. A deep, paralyzing, primitive fear. All-consuming since the moment he was reaped, one of the few eligible boys that could compete in the quell. What would his grandfather think of his admission? Like Aero himself, Romeo was being carted off to die. He wondered if that was how his grandfather felt when he had been reaped in the second decade of the games.

"Good," his grandfather said, biting into his biscuit. Romeo looked up in shock, watching Aero swallow. "You'd be an idiot to not be afraid. Like that boy Titus a few years back. Hand to mentor him myself, not an inch of fear him in. I couldn't understand it at the time, but after seeing what he had become in the arena… Well... Never mind. An old man's musing. What I mean to say, Romeo, is that fear is good."

"Good?" Romeo asked incredibly. "I'm a coward! Waiting to be killed!"

Ever since the moment that he had been reaped, he hadn't been himself. The fear was eating him alive, burying the happy boy under his shot nerves.

"It means you're not an idiot," Aero snapped, giving Romeo an annoyed look. "It means in the arena you'll live longer. Provided you don't let the fear stop you from surviving, the scared tributes are the ones who live the longest. No Victor has won that wasn't scared to be in the arena. Not even the Careers, as much as they'll tell you otherwise. Fear is a mechanism of survival, and it can be your best friend. I was scared out of my wits in the nineteenth. Back then I didn't even have a mentor from home. The Capitol assigned a _war hero_ from the rebellion to be the first generation of mentors. Commander Scorpio was his name. Born and bred a Two. Fought for the Capitol during the war and was responsible for putting down the rebellion in Six. Charming man to be my mentor. Said I was a criminal who escaped punishment. Said I deserved to die in the arena. Thought he might let me die after that."

Romeo couldn't imagine what that might have been like. A mentor who not only condemned his District but one who was paid to mentor you in the sick games. Someone who wasn't invested in the people from home, who didn't care if you lived or died. Someone who saw you as a criminal. "Did he let you die?"

Aero snorted. "President Summer created the mentor system personally, my boy. She might have been a power hunger bitch, may she root in hell, but she was dedicated to her rules. A mentor was supposed to fight for their tribute, and she made it perfectly clear that letting them die was breaking her rules. Breaking the law. An act of treason. Old Scorpio might have been a rebel hating bastard, but he was loyal to the Capitol. To President Summer. Did his duty and got me home. All things considered, he was a capable mentor. Left me hanging the next year though. Returned to Two with honors," his grandfather said, spitting.

"You're a better mentor," Romeo said, his mouth moving before he could think. "He only got one tribute out. You saved three."

All of District 6's other Victors had been mentored by Aero Night. Both Router and Tamora had been declared unfit to mentor. Only Mercedes was around to help him, and she hadn't pulled anyone out yet.

After hearing his story, and realizing just how successful his grandfather was at this mentor thing (for a Victor who wasn't a Career), Romeo suddenly felt a lot better.

"You know what, gramps? I think I'm hungry after all," Romeo said, a cheek grin slipping across his face.

Aero laughed. "Come on. Let's go see if we can find Mercedes and Kia. We need to decide if you're going in alone or if you two want to ally."

**Maisie Rosale**

**District 9 Female Tribute**

Maisie takes her place at the table, sitting next to her mother. The woman who gave birth to her was also her mentor, and if there was one thing about the situation that was true, she knew her mother would do whatever she had to do to get her home. Since she won fourteen years ago, Amelia had only brought home one tribute in her time as a mentor, and he was sitting across from her. Aaron Lockwood won three years ago. Since he and his family moved to Victor's Village, Maisie had gotten to know the young Victor. She liked him. Which made it a little hard to know that he was mentoring Wallace Branwell, her district partner. If he was to come home, she had to die.

Her mother would do everything in her power to make sure that it didn't happen, but at the same time, Aaron would be fighting for Wallace. Wallace Branwell's grandmother had died before he had been reaped. He had no one other than Aaron to fight for him.

Why did they need to fight at all? Why did they have to be put in the arena to fight and kill each other?

Not that she was going to say it. Her mother had told her the tribute train was bugged, and if she started talking like the Gamemakers would fix it so she wouldn't have a chance to win.

Did she even want to live? Did she want to live with the rest of her life with the blood of twenty-three other people on her hands? Every year when she watched the games (she hated mandatory viewing) she couldn't stop herself from crying. Maisie hated watching the deaths, and now that she would be part of the show, she didn't know if she wanted to win.

No. That wasn't true. Force her into the arena and put a knife in her hand, and she knew she would fight. As much as she would hate herself for it, Maisie wouldn't just lay down and die. She didn't want to die.

"You should try the carrot soup," Arron said, pointing to the thick, creamy soup on the table. "It's good. One of my favorite dishes."

Wallace looked at the soup for a minute, before loading his plate up with roasted lamb chops, and mashed potatoes. From his side, Aaron shrugged, dipping one of his chops into the soup.

Maisie grabbed a slice of cheese from the table and started nibbling on it. She watched Wallace ding into the lamb chops. He was a field worker, his relationship to Nine's first Victor not stopping him from the hard labor. Her district partner probably never had food like this. Maisie had grown up in Victor's Village, having access to her mother's wealth for as long as she had been alive. Wallace hadn't had that chance.

"So," Aaron said, his mouth full of food. "I guess we should find out if either of you two want to brave the arena alone, or form an alliance?"

Maisie's mother, sipping her cup of hot chocolate, nodded her head in agreement. If Wallace wanted to, she'd form an alliance with him. He would be the only one in the entire arena from home.

As soon as his mentor spoke, her district partner looked up at her. Their eyes met for a moment. Wallace nodded. "We'll do better working together," the seventeen-year-old boy said.

Aaron breathed a sigh of relief. Silas might have been his mentor and the man who threw himself into hell to pull him out of the arena, but her mother had been invaluable in making sure he came home. Aaron's district partner died in his bloodbath, taken out by the boy from Two if she remembered right. Her mother was in his corner the moment after and done as much as Silas to bring him home.

"Having someone watch your back can mean the difference between life and death," Aaron said with food in his mouth. One glare from her mother and he swallowed.

"Where did you learn your manners?" Amelia asked with a tight smile. Maisie couldn't help the giggle she gave.

"My mentors," he answered with a smug smile. Her mother shook her head.

"The first thing both of you are going to want to do is stuff your face," Aaron said. His smile disappeared, a look of contraindication appearing on his face. For the years she knew him, Maisie had never seen this look on his face. It was the same look her mother wore when she knew she was going to mentor a tribute. "The more food you eat, the more meat you put on. The more meat, the longer you'll be able to live without food in the arena."

Maisie looked down at the food in front of her. She had seen tributes starve in the arena, and it was the last thing she wanted to do. If she had to go, long and drawn out was the way she didn't want to go. Though she'd pick starving over a _career_ putting on a show.

"Wallace, you're in good shape. I can see the muscles," her mother said. If this was another time, Maisie might have felt awkward seeing her mother say that to someone. But she was in a mentor mood. "Maisie I've made sure exercises every day, so the two of you should be fit enough."

That was one way to put it. Every since the quell was announced, her mother had become a Peacekeeper drill sergeant.

"So, any skills to speak of? Either of you?" Aaron asked. Maisie thought about it. She didn't have any weapon skills, but her mother had gone out of her way to make sure she wasn't going into the arena defenseless.

"I've memorized a lot of poisonous plants and insects," she offered. Her mother had quizzed her nonstop every day when she wasn't working out.

Aaron nodded, turning to his tribute. "What about you?"

Wallace shrugged. "I'm big. I help carry the large balls of grain. I know how to use a sickle. I'm always out during harvest season," he said. In terms of fighting, he was already ahead of her.

Aaron and Amelia exchanged looks. "First things first. The day after tomorrow is where the private training sessions began. You two will stick together at all times. From now on District 9 is a team. Wallace, stay away from a sickle. It's a common weapon for Nine, but I'd rather not give the careers any reason to target you. For weapons, both of you should learn how to handle a knife. In the arena, it's the most common weapon, and it can help you. With more than just killing," he added.

"Learn skills that neither of you know," his mother picked up from where Aaron left off. "It might be a good idea for you Wallace to learn some survival skills of your own. Stick to stations your not familiar with. Avoid any other weapons but knives. Nothing that would increase your muscle mass like weight lifting. The more muscles you have, the more energy you'll expend. The less time food will last."

"Tying knots is a good skill to learn. The trap station will also help you in catching food, it the arena is an outdoor arena," Aaron offered.

Maisie exchanged one look with Wallace, and the two spent the rest of the night absorbing as much information from their mentors as they could.

**Rye Mellark**

**District 12 Male Tribute**

After dinner, Rye wasn't proud to admit that he hid in his room. But he did. This was his last year being edible to be reaped, and it would be his luck to be picked. Maybe it was some kind of karmic justice for last year. When Peeta had been reaped, his younger brother, he hadn't been able to step forward and volunteer. Unlike Katniss Everdeen, he had left his little brother to be carted off to the Capitol. In a way, he guessed he deserved it. His final year in the reaping and he gets chosen, just because his little brother won last year. Because Rye let him go.

It was stupid. He had already confronted Peeta about it when his brother had come back home, and his brother had forgiven him. Peeta had never been the type to hold a grudge.

Staring at his face in the mirror, a knock on the door brought his attention back to the real world. "Yes?" He called.

"Hey, Rye," Peeta called. "Mind if I come in?"

"Oh. Sure," he answered, stepping out of the bathroom, The door opened and Peeta stepped inside, wearing the same clothes as he had at the reaping. They were the clothes he wore at the reaping, the finest materiel from the Capitol.

Staring at him, Rye felt a little awkward. His little brother was his mentor. All his life, he had been the one to lead between the two of them. Now their rules were completely reversed, and Peeta was the one who knew how things were done here.

"How was dinner?" Peeta asked.

Rye grinned. "The best I've ever had," he admitted freely. After living off stale bread, with the occasional stale desert or meat, the meal was easily the best in his life. To think that's what Peeta has been eating for the last year, while Rye has subsided off stale food. Of course, Peeta offered to buy him food, but what kind of a man would he be if he let his little brother treat him like that?

"Eating too much to quickly will make you sick. Our bodies aren't used to the rich food, so pace yourself," Peeta said, eyeing him from the doorway. For a moment, a light smile wrapped warmly around his face, before it disappeared. "We should start discussing the games. I've asked Portia to stay, and she's agreed to become your stylist. Cinna is going to stay too, so you and her will stand out in the parade. That's good. You want to make an impression as early as possible. That'll get you sponsors."

If there was one thing watching the games taught Rye, it was sponsors could mean the difference between life and death. "Good," was all he could say to that. What else was there to say?

"I know you can't use any weapon. Well, maybe a knife, but I heard you tried to take Gale Hawthorne in a knife fight and you lost," Peeta said.

Not one of his prouder moments. It had been shortly after the rule change was announced. Gale was portrayed as Katniss Everdeen's cousin, and if he broke that illusion then Peeta would have been in danger. Rye had seen how angry Gale had been with the reports, and his fear for his brother's life got the better of him. He had tried to threaten Gale with a knife of all things. In a fair fight, Rye would have won easily, but Hawthorne refused to fight fair. Before he knew it, Rye was on his back, knife kicked out of his hand, Hawthorne's own knife to his throat.

The look on the Seam boy's throat still sent shivers down his spine. In that moment, he appeared to be so unhinged, Rye though Gale might actually cut his throat. Of course, he didn't, but he promised he wouldn't be so generous the next time Rye tried to jump him.

Ry rubs the back of his neck. "How did you even hear about that?" He asked.

Peeta snorted. "Delly," he answered. That little traitor...

"Yeah, well... Don't go telling anyone," he mumbled. Peeta grinned.

"My lips are sealed," he promised. "That said, we'll be arriving in the Capitol sometime tomorrow. The Parade is out of your hands, really. But after that is training. That's something we can work on. I think I have a strategy for you."

**Author's Note:**

**Hello! I hope you have enjoyed the fifth chapter!**

**The train ride was really fun to write about! I can't wait for the next chapter to come out! Thank you to everyone who has submitted a character so far. At the time of writing this, Wallace Branwell is the only OC who hasn't had a POV yet. Sorry about that, but he will have his POV, don't worry!**


	5. Chapter 5: Tribute Parade

**Disclaimer:**

**I do not own the Hunger Games book series. It is property of Suzanne Collins and the publisher Scholastic Press. The movies are owned by Lionsgate and other associated producers and creators. I am simply a humble fan, writing this for the enjoyment of other fans. Please support the official release.**

_Tribute Parade_

**Iskander Crane**

**Son of Seneca Crane, former Head Gamemaker**

He slept in well into the afternoon. Because of the opening ceremonies, all schools in the Capitol took the day off, and Iskander made the best of it. His bed felt he was sleeping on a cloud, and he ordered all the avoxes not to disturb his sleep. It was well after two in the afternoon when he was finally awakened by one of the few servants who wasn't an avox.

"Your friends are here, young master," the old woman said in her somber voice. Iskander groaned and told her to tell them to wait until while he got ready. An hour later his hair was freshly died, gold tattoo's applied to his skin, and the crimson silk pants slash shirt combo covering his body. His leather shoes were special order from Districts 8 and 10.

His two best friends were waiting for him in the living room. Said living room was one of many, and had a full sound system built into it. It was the place his father had built for him to watch the games, and his friends (along with some of the other affluent members of Snow Glad Academy) always watched the bloodbath. It had become a tradition.

Hermes and Venus were his first ever friends, and he had stuck with them through thick and thin. Though their family's standing was nowhere comparable to his, Iskander didn't care.

Venus's mother was a member of the Presidents very large harem. Though her mother had a daughter with the President, Venus was not an official member of the Snow family. Like all of his bastard children, they were owed nothing from him by the law. But it was known that he didn't leave his bastard children out in the wind, and Venus had plenty of gifts given to her from President Snow. Her life was set, much the same as his. Though officially, his standing was far higher than hers in the elite society of the Capitol.

Hermes on the other hand, had no guaranteed future like he and Venus did. Hermes was the son of a posture in the Red Rose. If any neighborhood in the Capitol deserved to be called a slum, it was the Red Rose. Red Rose was the poorest part of the city, and the prefecture where most criminal tended to gather. Hermes and his mom lived in a ratty little apartment overlooking the rainbow river. Had he not been one of Iskander's best friends, he wouldn't have much of a life ahead of him, unless he was one of the few who could manage to climb out of the Rose. But Iskander wasn't going to leave his bro to waste away in such an awful place.

"What are you guys doing in here?" Iskander asked, pretending not to understand why they were in that room specifically. Hermes and Venus exchanged glances.

"What do you mean?" Venus asked, her lips turning into a pout. Ah well, he had been planning to mess with them for a little bit, but he couldn't. Not with her beautiful face staring at him.

From his pocket, he pulled out three VIP tickets to the Tribute Parade. His friend's eyes lit up. "We're not watching it here," he bragged. Every year since his father got the position of Head Gamemaker, they had watched the parade in person. Since he had lost his spot, they were unsure if they would be able to get in. As always, he had come through.

Five minutes of excited chattering, many colorful drinks, and they were in the car heading to the city circle. Their tickets put them in one of the VIP booth there. The VIP tickets were astronomically priced, and in return, they made sure you got the good life. The room was full of luxury, and had one of the best views. A list of foods and drinks were presented to them, everything on it free. It was all covered in the price of the ticket.

Laying back in one of the most comfortable chairs Iskander had ever sat in, he had a blue seven (one of his favorite drink) in his hand, and a garlic roast swan to eat by his side. Venus and Hermes had been in these booths with him for years, and made sure to conduct themselves with an attitude that wouldn't embarrass him.

They spent nearly an hour in the box, filling themselves up with good food and company.

"I asked out Serena today," Hermes admitted, his third shoot of District Seven ale down his throat. "In front of my whole gym class. I couldn't help it. Her body is so tight, and in that gym uniform? Oh yeah."

"She rejected you, huh?" Iskander predicted.

Hermes smirked at him. "Big time, bro."

Venus laughed this time. "Don't be so mean to him. Just because he was rejected. Beside, Serena does have a really nice ass. I tried to flip a coin off it in the girls locker room, so perky."

This caused another round of laughter, and more drinks were brought in by the silent avox.

When the anthem began to play, the three friends shut up. This was the first moment they'd get to see the tributes in person. Sure, it was just a day ago Iskander, Venus and Hermes watched the reaping in his living room, but that was over the holoscreen. This was in front of their eyes. This particular booth was ground level, so they'd get to watch the tributes ride right by.

Not even a minute later and District 1's chariot was out. The chariot itself is a sparkling silver. The tributes in it are completely naked, bodies painted gold. Gems cover their sex, but it's enough skin to get the crowd roaring.

District Two's chariot burst into the field a moment later. The chariot and the tributes appear to be carved out of stone. The tributes dressed like stone statues carved as gladiators. The girl in particular is dressed like a Valkyrie. The bra covering her breast, and the single piece of lace covering her sex are just a little too tight. Same for the boys armor, but he didn't really care as much.

Both tributes from Three seem to have stylists who have taken inspiration from Twelve last year. They are dressed in black suits, glowing wires covering almost half their bodies. Not attractive or cool at all. Venus boos them as they drive by.

Four is a lot better. They're dressed like a mutt. Seemingly a cross between human and fish. Their skin is made up to look like scales, their hair seems to be flowing seaweed, and fins are up and down their arms. The crowd cheers loudly for this pair. Finnick and Annie's siblings, both in the arena at the same time!

"This year is going to be great!" Hermes shouted over the anthem, raising his glass. Iskander and Venus toasted him.

District 5 came out similar to District three. Taking after Twelve, the body suits they're wearing are solar powered according to Caesar's comments. The tributes are glowing.

District 6 is next. Both tributes appear to be dressed like human trains. Similar to last year, only they're decked out with lights.

"Seriously?" Venus sneered. "Only the alliance have put on a good showing this year. The rest of them are Twelve knockoffs!"

Seven comes out next and... "Surprise surprise," Iskander snorted. "Their trees. Again. Who the hell is Seven's stylists? They need to be fired. Every tribute from Seven since the Second Quarter Quell have been trees!"

District 8 came out wearing long robes of patched fabric, thankfully not lit up like the other outliers. Or using the same gimmick for the last quarter century!

The tributes from Nine came next. The girl, daughter of Amelia Rosale, was wearing a dress that looked like it was woven out of grain. The boy wore a tuxedo in similar fashion.

Both tributes from Ten were dressed up in a cow costume, with flaming belts. Obviously in an attempt to mimic Twelve last year, but it just came off as the cows being roasted alive. Had the stylist already given up on her districts tributes?

Eleven was next, and the two came out looking like they worked on a farm. Similar to the pair from last year, it wasn't that exciting, and like Seven, it had been done to death. At least it hadn't been going on as long as the tree thing.

Finally the moment everyone was waiting for. Twelves chariot pulled out, pitch black like coal. The tributes wore a grey jumpsuit and at first Iskander didn't know what it meant. Had Cinna and Portia been replaced? Then the grey suit had started spouting out smoke. Inside the smoke, the figures of the two tributes glowed a soft orange. Like embers of a fire. Only the vaguest of outlines could be seen, and suddenly Iskander knew this was Cinna and Portia's work!

"Fantastic!"

The tributes moved down the alley, and made the circle, coming to a stop in front of President Snow. He had the same speech he always had, and the Treaty of Treasure. Finally the tributes disappeared into the Training Center, and the parade was over.

"Happy Hunger Games!" Iskander cheered to his best friends. They repeated the line, and the three drank the best of their drinks.

Iskander offered to let them stay at his place, and both his friends agreed. He just wanted to get home, and climb into bed. The drinks made his head swim, and he knew he would be feeling them in the morning. But the night was not over, and one more surprise was left.

Cashmere Orfever, herself was waiting for them in person. Iskander in particular. As soon as they stepped inside, they found the famous Victor wearing a see through nightgown. Under it, she wore only a red laced bra and panties. A predator's grin lit up her face when she spotted them.

"You must be Iskander Crane," she purred, standing up. With an almost inhumane grace, Cashmere crossed the short distance between them. She stood at almost six feet, towering over the teenager. One hand on Iskander's shoulder, and one hand down his pants. She grabbed his manhood with her soft hands and Iskander could feel himself responding to her touch. A blush lit up his face. She leaned her head down.

"How about we have some fun?" She whispered in his ear, before giving it a little nipple.

All that he could do was nod, unable to step. Pulling away from him, she grabbed his hand.

"Can my friends come too?" He asked, barely in a whisper. He knew Hermes would never forgive him if he didn't ask. The same went for Venus, since she swung both ways.

A strange look passed over Cashmere's face, and for a moment, Iskander thought he might have seen a bit of repulsion. It was replaced by a smile so fast that Iskander assumed he imagined it.

"Of course," she purred.

As Iskander, Hermes and Venus stripped, and made their way to the guest bedroom, the three teenagers had the best night of their lives. They got to sleep with the most beautiful Victor to ever come out of One.

**Cashmere Orfever**

**Victor of the Sixty-Fourth Hunger Games**

Whatever they asked, she did. She hated it. She hated them.

The teenagers were so lost in the haze of lust that they didn't know or care what-so-ever how Cashmere felt. They didn't know that Seneca Crane had purchased her from Snow. That if she didn't fuck them, a cousin or niece or nephew would be killed. They didn't know they made her skin crawl. They didn't know how disgusting she felt as she did whatever horrible things they asked her to do. They didn't know Cashmere was made to do worse things with worse people.

As the three teenagers were in bliss, Cashmere Orfever took her leave. Slipping on a red pair of shorts, and a red shirt, the car was already waiting for her on the curb. Climbing inside, she order the driver to take her back to the Training Center. Gloss had been left all alone with Gleam.

Grabbing white pill first, she downed it with a glass of strong liquor. The pill would get the taste of sex out of her mouth. A taste she was familiar with, all things considered. All in all, it was a more tame session, for which she was thankful for.

The blue pill next would assure their was no child in her. The last thing she wanted was to carry some sick Capitol teenagers baby.

Cashmere hated the people in the Capitol, men and women alike. Every since she won, most of her clients were men. Of course their were women, and she had learned they could be just as cruel as the men. She held that it was true for all humans everywhere, but the people of the Capitol were a cut above the rest. Just allowing Fortune to run One was proof enough.

The only person from the Capitol she truly love was her brother. Their mother had been from the Capitol before their father seduced her away with the promise of wealth. As much as she hated to admit it, they were part Capitol, even if her soul was all One. And Gloss was the only good thing from the awful city. The rest of his kind could die, and the world might be a better place. Or maybe not, she didn't give a fuck either way. But she loved Gloss, ever since they were children. She loved him despite the taboo about incest. They were closer than most siblings, so what? He was the only person she knew she loved in the whole rotten world. The only person in this whole rotten world who truly loved her. She only protected the rest of her family because she cared for them, on some level. They were her blood, and she couldn't ignore it, but Gloss was her whole world. Maybe that's why she cared about them, because she didn't want to lose his love. Or maybe she did genuinely care for them.

He said he loved her unconditionally, but she wasn't about to chance it. He meant too much to her.

Cashmere flung herself into Glosses arms when she set foot on the training centers first floor. He wrapped his strong arms around her, whispering how much he loved her. He continued whispering it to her as he carried her all the way to his bedroom. Only when the door was closed did she finally feel safe.

**Author's Note:**

**Hello! I hope you have enjoyed the sixth chapter! I also hope you enjoyed the point of view of a normal Capitol teenager!**

**I at least hope you found the small look into Cashmere's live interesting. I feel sorry for her just writing it. I will admit, Jaime and Cercei from A Song of Ice and Fire (or Game of Thrones from you TV watches only. That last season bra) was the inspiration for the Orfever siblings really messed up relationship. Without giving out spoilers, let's say I have my own head-canon for their life, and it isn't a very happy one.**

**I know I had some of you put designs for the tribute costume, but I removed the requirement. Since none of the submitter's were really interested in the idea, I decided I'd come up with my own haha. I hope you don't mind.**


	6. Chapter 6: Training Day 1

**Disclaimer:**

**I do not own the Hunger Games book series. It is the property of Suzanne Collins and the publisher Scholastic Press. The movies are owned by Lionsgate and other associated producers and creators. I am simply a humble fan, writing this for the enjoyment of other fans. Please support the official release.**

_Training Day 1_

**Katniss Everdeen**

**Co-Victor of the Seventy-Fourth Hunger Games**

Having given Nelly the best advice she could the night before, Katniss decided she was going to sleep in. The year before, she had always been up before Peeta, and right now she had time to make up for.

When Peeta finally woke her up, he told her it was time for lunch. Taking a quick shower, and putting on the clothes Cinna had laid out for her, Katniss couldn't shake the strange feeling, even as she ate her favorite lamb stew. It felt so weird to still be up on the twelfth floor, and not down in the gym with the other tributes. But she wasn't a tribute this year; she was a Victor.

Katniss couldn't help but feel the slightest bit of betrayal from Cinna. The outfit he put her in showed more of her skin that she would have liked other people to see. Her arms and legs were covered by black stockings. The shirt clung tighter to her chest that Katniss care for it too. Her blue skirt was a _little _too high for her liking. And the heels! Why, oh why did he have to put her in heels?

Peeta was wearing a black suit, that looked like her shirt felt; it hugged his chest in all the right places, making sure his muscles could be seen.

Haymitch nodded when he saw her. "Good. You and the boy look ready," he remarked. "Come on."

"Where are we going?" Katniss asked, following him to the elevator.

"To paradise," Haymitch answered with a smile. Like her and Peeta, he seemed to be dressed up for some occasion.

"Paradise?" Peeta repeated as the door closed behind them. Haymitch grabbed a flash from his jacket pocket and took a sizable drink. Katniss crossed her arms as he did. Somethings never change.

"It's a casino and hotel. A place where people from the Capitol get together and party. At this time of year, it'll be packed full," he explained, slipping the flask back into his suit. "Or you can call it a Sponsor Pit. You'll find plenty of pits around the city, but Paradise is one of the largest and respected clubs. It was opened for the very first Hunger Games, so it has a long tradition."

"So we're going to a club to get Sponsors?" Katniss asked, a feeling creeping into the pit of her stomach.

"Right you are, sweetheart. It'll be our duty to schmooze the citizens of our great Capitol out of as much money as we can. That money will go to Twelve's tributes."

"That's why we're dressed like this," Katniss said. It clicked. Cinna knew she didn't like being dressed up like a dull. Now she could understand why he did it. Her girl, Peeta's brother, they were counting on them getting Sponsorship money.

"Finally figured out, did you, darling?" Haymitch laughed. Katniss shot him a venomous glare. "I'm going to show you the ins and outs. The Sponsor pits are no joke, and if you're not ready they'll eat you alive. Don't worry, sweetheart. By the time we're done, the two of you will be veterans at this."

Peeta looked at their old mentor. "You're not taking us just to show us the ropes, are you?"

Haymitch chuckled. "You catch on quickly. Right now, you two are the most popular Victors. The newest member of our little club always is, but you're both different. Co-Victors are unheard of. Many of this city's people are just waiting to meet you. So we're going to use your popularity to separate as much money as we can from the lovely people who live here."

**Cassandra Arellius**

**District 2 Female City**

At a quarter to ten, their mentors herded them into the elevator. In the outer districts, it had become something of a tradition for their escorts to bring the tributes down to the gym. Enobaria had made sure to impress upon her and Ryker that members of the alliance always go down on their own. Unlike the outliers, they chose to be here.

She and Ryker were the last two to arrive. The other twenty-two tributes were already waiting for the head trainer to arrive. Her eyes narrowed in on the Ones and Fours, and she made a beeline right for them.

The boy from One, Gleam, turned to look at them. His perfect blond curly hair copped his face as he smiled. His teeth were the whitest she had ever seen. His teal eyes bore into her. She had pegged him as one of the ones to look out for during the reaping. Of course, everyone in the alliance was her biggest threat, but something about the Gleam made him stand out from the rest of them.

"Hey Two," he greeted, a cocky smile splitting his lips. "I'm taking charge of the alliance. Anyone who has a problem with that can eat my sword in the arena. After I shove it up your ass."

Cassandra exchanged a look with Ryker, and she had a feeling her district partner might not take kindly to being bossed around. On the other hand, not leading the pack was the smart move. Common sense might dictate that only the strongest would be the leader, but it put a target on your back for the other five members. Her cousin Enobaria had left the girl from Four lead and then murdered her during the break.

Half the time, it was a Two who normally lead the pack. The other half was divided between One and Four. After shrugging at Ryker, Cassandra was fine with this year being one that a Two wasn't in charge. Ryker glowered at him for a moment, which Gleam continued to smile his shit-eating grin. Her district partner slowly nodded.

Neither his partner nor the Fours seemed to want to challenge him. "I'm glad we all understand each other. We're heading to the weapons once this starts. We have to show the folder who's going to come out of this alive."

Cassandra could tell that she wasn't going to like Gleam. Oh, she'd play her part just fine. Pretending to be at ease and friends with everyone in the alliance. That was common sense. The better-united front presented by the pack, the more sponsors they'd get. But when the pack finally broke, Cassandra promised to shove a blade in his throat.

At ten, the head trainer, Atala, finally appeared. Cassandra listened as she welcomed each of them, and went on to explain each one of the different stations. When she finally released them, Cassandra followed the rest of the alliance straight to the weapon station.

Gleam was the first one there and grabbed hold of a spear. He hurled it at one of the training dummies, hitting where the heart would be on a real body.

The boy from Four, Neptune, moved next. Like his older brother, he grabbed a trident and hurled it toward the training dummy next to the one Gleam it. Like the spear, his trident found the dummy's heart. Given who exactly his older brother was, Cassandra wasn't very surprised he could use that weapon.

And like Finnick himself, Neptune wasn't very bad to look at. The boy had a nice ass.

Gleam laughed, grabbing another spear. "You're on, Neptune."

"Think he's compensating for something?" A voice asked. Cassandra turned to see Margaret standing next to her. The girl from Four was watching Gleam with a disgruntled look on her face.

Cassandra looked back at the handsome boy from One. Honestly, she didn't know. "Probably," she answered anyway, causing the other girl to laugh.

Looking around the weapon station, she saw Ryker with Helene, both of them holding swords. They eyed the sword trainer, and Cassandra felt she wasn't going to get her district partner back again anytime soon.

"How are you with throwing knives?" Margaret asked. In truth, it wasn't one of her finer skills. She was better fighting with a knife than throwing them.

"Competent enough," she answered. Her eyes flashed over to the swords, and she looked over each one of them. She was skilled with a sword, but her best weapon was a katana. Katana was a more specialized weapon, and they weren't in the arena every year. This year was a quell, so she hoped her favored weapon would be among those in the arena. Near the back of the swords, she finds a black-handled katana, which she hoped meant that it would be in the arena.

"Come on, let's go throw some knives. We can plan to murder Gleam," Margaret offered.

Cassandra didn't know if she was playing a role or not, but it sounded like a perfectly good time for her.

"After you."

**Katniss Everdeen**

**Co-Victor of the Seventy-Fourth Hunger Games**

The Paradise Hotel and Casino was huge. Their car pulled in on a side road, driving behind the building, but she got a good view of the front. Crowds of people were huge, men and women walking to and from the building. It reminded her of the square in Twelve, where all the merchant's shops were located, only it was a pale imitation of this grandeur.

They entered the building through a back door, and Katniss found herself in the lap of luxury. It reminded her of the Presidential Mansion in a way, displaying wealth at every turn.

That was just the deserted hallway. When they entered one of the casino's official sponsorship sections, it was like stepping into a whole other world. Freakish looking Capitol people moved around the room, dressed in the strangest of clothes she had ever seen. The skin was dyed every color. At first glance, it was hard to see that these freaks were human.

A few of them actually resemble humans, but they were the minority.

Everything went crazy as soon as they were spotted. A woman (at least Katniss thought she was a woman. Honestly she looked more like a blob) screamed when her beady eyes found them. As if sending a signal to the crowd, everyone turned towards them, and suddenly people surrounded her. She was offered drinks, food, gifts, congratulations on her wedding ("I spent a fortune on three tickets!").

Eventually, she accepted a colorful drink, and that was her first mistake. As soon as she downed it, the world suddenly became lighter. She didn't know why she cared so much about her girl back in the tower or even the games. Life was too short to care about things too much.

Haymitch himself had to drag her away. She liked the attention, everyone swooning around her. offering her gifts and promises, and declarations of love. She liked the splendid wealth, and the food, and how everyone wanted to talk to _her_. She was the center of attention, and she basked in it.

Haymitch shoved a white drink in her hands and made her down it. As soon as it passed her lips. Katniss felt like she was coming out of a haze. For the first time, she noticed Peeta standing behind Haymitch, a strange look on his face.

"We call it the sponsor pit for a reason, sweetheart," Haymitch said once they were in a private room. "These people out here might offer you drugs, or liquor. Best not to take it if you can avoid it. That won't always be possible, but keep that in mind."

When neither of them said anything, Haymitch continued: "It's not easy. These people will flatter you. They'll make you feel special, and as soon as you buy into that, they're done. You'll get lost in this hotel until a cohort of Peacekeepers drags you out. Once you're lost, you won't be collecting money for your tributes. You won't be there to mentor them. You'll be here."

She could understand what he meant, in a way she never would have been able to before. They made you feel like the center of the world. Like you were the single most important person. If someone let their guard down, they'd be sucked in. In that kind of state of mind, who knows what someone might agree to. You had to keep yourself focused on what really mattered. Getting as much money as possible for your tribute, and not fall into the trap.

"It'll get easier," Haymitch after a pause. "The more you do it. The better at it you'll become. Everyone is like this the first time around. That's why the Careers have a whole system to train new Victors for this. The rest of us have to make do the old fashioned way. I'll call a car for you. You can go back to the Training Center. I'll stay here and see if we can get more funds-"

"No," Peeta said, interrupting him. "My brother is here in the Capitol. He needs the money. You said it yourself we're the most popular Victors right now. If I can help collect money for him, I will."

It was rare to see this kind of drive from Peeta. Katniss had a feeling that he would be the kind of person to go above and beyond for his tributes.

"I want to stay too," Katniss said, grabbing his hand. His eyes met hers. "I want to help them as much as I can.

**Wallace Branwell**

**District 9 Male Tribute**

"These berries might look similar, but they're not," the survival trainer said. Wallace didn't see how they were different. They were both red and round. "You can see here at the top of the berry. This white spot. If you find a red berry with a white spot, don't eat it. One will put you down with a fever for a day. A few will knock you out for a week. Enough for them will kill you."

Now that the woman pointed it out, Wallace found the white spot on the second berry. Well, at least he wouldn't be dropped down for a day now.

"I've completed the test," Maisie said. Wallace turned to look at her, watching as she handed the trainer the paper.

"Well done," the trainer praised. "You got every question right. It's very rare for a tribute to get this high of a score."

The trainer really looked impressed. If nothing else, as long as Maisie was with him, he wouldn't have to worry about eating the wrong berries in the arena.

"Thank you," his district partner said. When she smiled, her dimples seemed to become more pronounced.

Before the trainer could give them another test, lunch was called, for which Wallace was thankful. He was starving. The head trainer points them to a dining room just off to the side of the gymnasium. The Careers push their way to the front, the boy from One knocking the girl from Twelve out of his way with a laugh. One of the blue-clad games security officers intervened right away, probably thinking she was going to stop a fight.

"I don't like him," Maisie said from his side. She was staring daggers at One.

"I don't like him either," Wallace agreed.

"You think Nelly is okay?" She asked.

"Who's Nelly?" Was his answer.

"She's the girl from Twelve," Maisie said, turning her dagger glare on him. Wallace looked back at the Twelve girl, spotting her crying on the ground.

"She's no Katniss Everdeen," Wallace said, picturing last years Victor. Peeta Mellark might have won with her, but if either of them deserved the title of Victor, it was Everdeen.

Her district partner, a tall blond boy, helped her off the ground. He was glaring at One, who was himself arguing with the security officer. It looks like Nine and the Careers weren't the only allies.

The food was arranged on carts around the room, and the tributes served themselves. Wallace looked his plate with chicken and bread rolls, taking care to pick the bread from home. As a field hand, seeing the bread made from his districts grain enraged him. The Capitol stole most of the grain from Nine, and it ended up in this horrible city, helping to fatten up the pigs that live there.

"Wallace?" Maisie called. "Are you alright?"

He turned to look at her. She must have noticed the look on his face.

"Yeah. I'm fine," he said.

"Let's grab a table," Maisie suggested. Wallace nodded and let her pick out one. She picks one near the far side of the wall, which was fine with him. Other than them, a few of the tributes seemed to be in small groups, but none as large as the Careers. Seated at the table in the center of the room, the tributes from One, Two and Four laughed openly together. As if saying they weren't afraid. Why would they be? They were cheaters, allowed to train before they ever set foot on the train.

"Wallace, look," Maisie said. She pointed back into the gym, at purple-robed men and women talking to the trainers. "Those are the Gamemakers."

The people responsible for controlling the arena. It was them who decided which tribute would win, and which would lose. While they were allowed to sit back in the Capitol and get fat, Wallace would be out fighting for his life.

"What about them?" He asked, jabbing one of his scrambled eggs with a fork.

"Do you think they're as bad as everyone says?" Maisie asked.

Wallace nodded. "You have to be a special kind of person to become a Gamemaker."

An evil person. The kind of person who didn't mind murdering children for a so-called _crime _that had been committed seventy-five years ago. What crime had he committed that deserved throwing him into the games? What had Maisie done to deserve her slot?

"Don't worry about them. Let's eat," he said.

It was easier said than done.

**Katniss Everdeen**

**Co-Victor of the Seventy-Fourth Hunger Games**

"Who are they?" Katniss asked, point out across the floor. She had seen every strangely dressed person in the hotel, but they stood out among the crowd. A small group of people were moving through the crowd, all wearing an identical white suit. A sash crossed their bodies, and they were a strange kind of hat she had never seen before.

What really caught her eye was the weapon strapped to their hips. It was illegal for citizens to own firearms, even here in the Capitol. Outside of the Peacekeepers, only the highest-ranking members of the government were allowed that privilege.

She had seen Peacekeepers here in the Capitol. Compared to those in the districts, the ones patrolling the streets were tame. They, even more, a less intimidating uniform. Here they really did keep the peace, though Haymitch said a more militarized garrison was stationed in the Capitol itself. The Peacekeepers out on the streets here didn't have the kind of military training most of them did. The ones on the street were not soldiers.

Peeta frowned.

"I don't know," he answered, watching as they disappeared into the crowd. "Officers out of uniform?"

Katniss didn't believe it. The white close was clearly a uniform. As the three of them were leaving hours later, she brought up the men to Haymitch. Her mentor eyed her carefully.

"You saw them?" He asked sharply. She nodded. Haymitch cursed. "They're called the Praetorian Guard. They're the secret service. The most elite members of the Peacekeepers brought to the Capitol from the districts. None of them are Capitol citizens. They live and operate out of the Presidential Mansion. They're Snow's personal guard, his key enforcers in the city. If they're seen outside the mansion, it means Snow has either personally sent them out, or they're on a mission. They usually investigate people that threaten the order of Panem. If Snow leaves his mansion, the Praetorian Guard is with him at all times."

"So if he sent them out," Peeta started.

"Then someone in this hotel is about to have a very bad day," Haymitch agreed. "Come on, we don't want to stay if the Praetorian Guard is here."

**Rance Walker**

**District 3 Female Tribute**

She was having a really bad day.

Rance knew she was a dead woman walking. Unless the arena was an abandoned city or some arena with parts she could work with, there was no way she was going to survive. Her skills lie in technology, not fighting. Not survival.

Put a malfunctioning holoscreen in her hands and she'd have it fixed up in a day. Put a knife in her hands and tell her to kill someone? Unless it was someone smaller, and more were underfed than her, she wasn't going to win that fight.

All her dreams of getting one of the better tech jobs in the district were gone. She had wanted to become one of the well-paid engineers, who could afford to live in the better parts of Three.

Rance knew that path in life was closed to her. If she lost, she died. If she won, Rance would be a Victor. She wouldn't need to work for the rest of her life. Her family could come live with her in Victor's Village.

She was going to die. No matter how hard she tried not to think about it, imagines of past games came flooding into her mind. Last year when Katniss Everdeen dropped the nest of Tracker Jackers onto the Careers. The Seventy-First games in the volcano. Five years ago, when the dam broke, and four of the five remaining tributes all drowned to death. She pictured herself in each one of the situations, dying over and over again.

Rance didn't want to die. She wasn't about to bend over and let someone kill her. When it came down to it, Rance would fight. She would kill if she had to.

"You've scored a thirteen percent," the survivalist teacher said apologetically. Rance stared down at the scorecard he held out, noticing most of the answers had red marks.

"Hey, do you need help?" A voiced said. Rance looked over and saw the girl from Twelve. The one who had been crying earlier. "I'm really good at this kind of thing. Hunting for plants is common in the Seam."

Rance didn't know what the dark-haired girl meant by _Seam_, but her light-haired district partner seemed to. "Really?" The boy from Twelve asked.

The girl gave him a look. "We don't all grow up in a bakery," the girl said.

Rance knew that Peeta Mellark came from a family of bakers. Everyone in the entire country knew that. The rest was lost on her.

Rance knew that life in Twelve was a lot different than in her district. Three was founded in the husk of an old North American city. The wall that surrounded it made sure no one could leave, and while there was fauna all around the district (she had only learned this when she became a tribute and left Three on the train), inside the wall there was no.

She wondered how her life might have turned out if she had been born in Twelve. Would she talk about eating plants so casually?

"So, we were wondering if you wanted to ally with us?" Nelly asked out of the blue.

"Me? You want me?" Rance asked, disbelievingly. Unless it was the right kind of arena or the right person was reaped, Three never made it far into the games. Why would they want her?

When she asked this, Nelly shrugged. "You remind me of my friend back home."

**Helene Dulac**

**District 1 Female Tribute**

Augustus stared daggers at her when she came up from training. Gleam was off with Cashmere and Gloss, his cousins, and that just left her with her Augustus. The other two Victor's of her team were out gathering sponsors for her, but she didn't know how long that would hold out.

"Helene, are you trying to break our traditions?" Her uncle asked.

"No, I-" she started to defend herself, only to get glared down by her uncle.

"District One is always part of the Alliance. How do you think we pull in Victor's as often as we do?" He asked in a sarcastic voice. "You want to leave it? Why?"

It was a simple question. "I don't want to get stabbed in the back," she answered.

Augustus shook his head. "That' a risk about joining the Alliance, but the one you're going to have to take."

"I'm getting out the first chance I get," she said strongly.

"Then you won't have any sponsors!" Her uncle hissed, narrowing his eyes at her. "One, Two and Four always have a list of dedicated sponsors. We have a finite amount of denarii. Gleam is running the pack this year. He's going to remain until it breaks. Once you break away from the back, your odds for victory will go down. You'll be less likely to win, and fewer people will want to sponsor you. We can only try to save one of you. Why would we put effort into someone who is less likely to survive? The pack offers protection. You'll have none. As far as the outlier tributes are concerned, you're a _Career_, and none of them will be jumping up to be your ally. So tell me, why waste time trying to get you home when Gleam has a much better chance?"

When he put it that way, Helene didn't have a ready answer. But staying with the pack could be just as dangerous. They could turn on her, overwhelming her in a second. Stab her in the back when she wasn't looking.

Her uncle sighed. Some of the rage he wore on his face just a moment ago was gone. "Helene. Staying with the pack is expected. The sponsors, the other mentors, everyone expects it. At least until the numbers are wilted down. The most important weapon you have in the games is your own instincts. Always trust them. If you feel like you should run, and you have the chance, take it. That said, leaving the pack early might mark you for death. If you run too early, they'll make hunting you down a priority. The Gamemakers might drive you towards them just for the entertainment value. I'd strongly recommend you remain with the pack until you're down to ten tributes. With over half the field left being your allies, it will make abandoning the group look smarter. You'll be seen as too clever to be caught up in the battle once the pack breaks."

Helene mulled over his words. He made sense. If she escaped on the first day, it was very much a possibility the Gamemakers lead the pack right to her, just so the country could see how the pack dealt with traitors.

"Okay, uncle," she agreed. For now, she'd stay with them. But at the first sign something was wrong, Helene vowed she wouldn't stick around. All things considered, she still might break the first chance she gets, but the idea of the pack making a show out of _her _has made her (at the very least) consider how her plans might affect her.

"Is that all?" She asked, slipping a smile to her face. She hoped he hadn't heard about her interview angle.

"Helene, why did Velvet tell me you wanted to try another approach to your interviews?" Augustus asked casually.

Damn it!

**Author's Note:**

**Hello! I hope you enjoyed the sixth chapter!**

**In case you wanted a visual example, the **_**normal **_**Peacekeepers in the districts are dressed like the Peacekeepers that came in Catching Fire. The Peacekeepers on the streets of the Capitol are dressed like the ones we see in the first movie. The Praetorian Guard's are dressed like men who escorted Seneca to the room with the berries at the end of the first Hunger Games movie.**


	7. Chapter 7: Training Day 2

**Disclaimer:**

**I do not own the Hunger Games book series. It is the property of Suzanne Collins and the publisher Scholastic Press. The movies are owned by Lionsgate and other associated producers and creators. I am simply a humble fan, writing this for the enjoyment of other fans. Please support the official release.**

_Training Day 2_

**Finnick Odair**

**Victor of the Sixty-Fifth Hunger Games**

Antonius Blackthorn was the was Minister of Defense, and one of the most powerful people in the country. His position was the head censor. He was the man who controlled Panem's various Peacekeeping forces, higher than any general.

What nobody knew was that he was born in District 2. Like all the citizens of the districts, he sat through the reapings, though he never attended the Career Institute. He had been on track his whole life to join the Peacekeepers and risen to its highest rank. The official history that was told to the Capitol was that Antonius was born in Mayfield, one of the small mountain towns that surrounded the Capitol.. Unless you were born in Two, it was illegal for district citizens to hold any position higher than Mayor. Two's tended to hold the highest positions in the Peacekeepers. If it got out that a district citizen controlled the entity of the Peacekeepers, there was nothing the government would be able to do to avoid a scandal. It was one of the many secrets that Finnick had collected over the years, though the Minister was not aware Finnick knew where he was really born.

As a member of Snow's inner circle, not only was he powerful, but he was incredibly rich. In the Capitol, he was regarded as a respectable family man. Who protected the people from the information they deemed too sensitive to be released. It was also well known that he enjoyed the company of men as much as he did that of women. What the public did not know was that he often bought every knew Victor that came out of the arena, if they were desirable enough to be a part of the presidents Victor trade.

When Finnick had turned sixteen, his very first _client_ was Antonius Blackthorn. And the man had been coming back to him ever since. Finnick hated the Minister born in Two. Being near the man-made his skin crawl. Most of the time he tried to avoid him, and there were a few years he had managed to mentor without being bought by him in particular.

There had only been one time before Finnick had willingly gone to him. The first was five years ago when he was mentoring Annie. He willingly went to the man a second time, this time for his brother Neptune. As a tribute from Four and a Career, Neptune wouldn't be lacking for funds. Add on top of that whose brother he was. But Finnick wasn't about to take any chances with his brother's life. If he had to whore himself out this year, he'd do it. Finnick Odair was going to make sure Neptune had more funds than any other tribute.

**Rye Mellark**

**District 12 Male Tribute**

Arriving down to the gym in the morning, he knew the coffee did the trick. Rye had never been a morning person, but the cup of black liquid felt like it hit him with a hammer. He wished his family had it back in Twelve. It would have been so much easier to get his butt out of bed each morning. In Twelve, he had only ever seen the staff in the Justice Building drinking coffee. And Haymitch, on a few occasions.

Today the head trainer didn't even bother to speak, allowing them access to the gym right away. He spotted Rance over by the climbing rope, halfway up already. Nudging Nelly, the two walked right towards her, ready to shout out words of encouragement, when the girl lost her grip and fell. She landed with a _thump _and Rye ran over to her. Helping her up, she didn't so much as flinch. "Thanks," Rance muttered, glaring at the rope.

"Are you alright?" Nelly asked, peeking around from behind him.

"Fine," she sighed.

"You're not very athletic, are you?" Rye said, a smile flickering on his lips.

"Not everyone is a wrestling champion like you," Nelly said.

Rance looked at him. "You wrestled?"

Rye nodded at the girl from Three. "Yeah. I was the Captain of the school team."

"That's where those muscles must come from, right?" She asked.

Well, that and lifting heavy sacks of flower, but he just nodded.

"So, which station do you think we should go to?" He asked. Peeta had instructed him which ones to stay away from, and after he got passed how annoying it was taking orders from his baby brother, he had started to see the wisdom. It might have only been the year before, but he had already lived through this.

"Knife fighting," Rance said immediately.

"Weapons? I thought you wanted to avoid the Careers?" Nelly asked. Rye looked over to the area where all the weapon stations were bricked together.

"They're not focusing on the knives," Rance said. She was right. They all seemed to be having a competition on who was the most accurate with a spear. When Rye turned back, he noticed Rance seemed more resigned to something, though he didn't think she would be accepting her death. Now she wanted to learn how to use a weapon? What had changed in one night?

"Well, we have a right to use the weapon stations as well. The Careers can't stop us," Rye said. Though he didn't like the idea of making himself a target. If the Careers wanted the station, and they didn't move when demanded, the three of them would be gunned for in the arena. Then again, they would be targets no matter what. "You ever hold a knife before?"

Rance grinned. "Only when cutting tesserae bred."

**Temperance Oto**

**District 6 Citizen**

When the Peacekeepers knocked on her door, Temperance didn't know what to think. Six wasn't the safest of districts, and more than once criminals have tried to sneak into the Victors Village. It was why the decision was made to staff an entire cohort of Peacekeeper's around the village at all times. Since being adopted by her aunt Mercedes, she had gotten to know each of the ones who guarded the village. She didn't recognize any of the ones outside her aunt's door.

"Temperance Oto?" The man in the front asked. She nodded slowly. " You'll be coming with us. By order of President Snow."

As soon as his name was mentioned, Temperance felt a shiver go down her spine. Being under the care of her Victor aunt gave her privileges that hardly anyone in all of Six enjoyed. In the face of the president, none of that mattered.

The five Peacekeepers surrounded her and escorted her to a car outside the village. High concrete walls segmented the village off from Upper, another way to discourage criminals from trying to find their way blocked her view of the only home she really knew.

She was loaded into the back of a black car. It was the first time she had ever road in one, the closest experience she had was the small train line that connected Lower and Upper. She wished she could enjoy the ride, but the fact that President Snow himself sent for her made that She was the niece of a Victor, but that wasn't enough to bring her to his attention. Had her aunt done something? Something bad enough for the president to call her?

Temperance tried asking the Peacekeepers around her but remained silent. They drove through Upper, the only wealthy part of Six. Lower was crime and drug-infested, where most of the district lived. On the other side of the river, separated from Upper. In Upper, there was no crime to speak of. No drugs traveled through. It was almost like another world.

When the car stopped in front of the train station, Temperance was told to get out. She climbed out, awkwardly looking around. One of the doors to the train opened, and she was told to get inside. The cramped and dirty trains that moved between Lower and Upper twice a day couldn't even begin to compare to the luxury Temperance found herself in. She was at the point of asking a Peacekeeper again what she was doing here when said Peacekeeper stepped away, and the train door closed. Before she could make heads or tails of what was happening, the train began to move, and she watched as District 6 disappeared behind her.

A man dressed in a strange uniform came up to her. "Miss, please follow."

Temperance still didn't know what was happening, or why she had been put on a train, but she figured following him might get her answers. The man led her to a dining car and told her to go inside. Everything would be explained. Then he disappeared back into the train.

When she opened the door, a high pitched spoke: "Please come in, my dear. Close the door behind you."

Doing as the voice bid, she found herself coming face to face with an old man. He was sitting at a table full of food and deserts, his plate already full, though his eyes focused on her. "Have a seat," he said, indicating the one across from him.

"Who are you?" Temperance asked, reluctantly sitting down. Why would the president go out of his way to put her on this train? The old man was wispy and thin. His dark blue hair curled on top of his head. Up and down his arms, his skin was emblazoned with gold tattoos.

"You may address me as Maximus Eaton. You are a very lucky girl, you know that? Not many born into your position would ever have an opportunity like yours. Going forward, I will be your case officer. Making sure you are adjusting. May I offer you a blueberry and pecan Galette?"

He pointed to a place on the table, filled with a dessert that she had never seen before.

"Opportunity?" Temperance repeated, nodded at the desert.

"Why yes. I assume you are excited," Maximus said, cutting a piece of the desert off and putting it on the plat in front of her.

"What opportunity?" She clarified.

Maximus frowned, staring at her. "Has anyone told you anything?" He asked. Temperance shook her head. The old man sighed.

"Peacekeepers. You would expect them to be able to at least answer questions. I suppose that's what we get when most of them come from Two. My dead Temperance. You have been granted Capitol citizenship. We are en route to the Capitol now, where you will meet the man that is sponsoring your immigration."

**Romeo Night**

**District 6 Male Tribute**

Romeo didn't want to go into the arena alone. Just the thought of sleeping at night with no one to watch his back scared him. What if someone snuck up on him, and killed him while he slept? He had seen it happen plenty of times in the games before. Going into the games alone wasn't always the best choice.

Having observed the other tributes for the morning, Romeo decided he'd try the pair from Nine first. The year before last, Chevy from Six had gotten all the way to the final two by pairing up with the tributes from Nine. In the end, he was killed by Odin, the Victor from Two that year, but Romeo wouldn't make the mistake of challenging a Career head-on. He wasn't as big as Chevy had been anyway.

So during lunch, Romeo filled his plate up with mashed potatoes and lamb chops, walking over to the pair from Nine. The boy looked up at him as he approached, glaring daggers. When the girl saw, she turned around, and to his surprise smiled at him. "Hello."

"Hi," he said, returning her smile. "Mind if I sit down?"

"Wallace?" The girl asked, turning to the boy. His glare had turned into a suspicious look, but he nodded.

Romeo took that as his cue and sat down next to the girl. "Romeo Night," he introduced himself.

"Maisie Rosale," the girl said.

"... Wallace Branwell," the boy answered after a moment of awkward silence.

"So, are you two allies?" He asked as nonchalantly as he could.

Wallace nodded. Huh. The boy from Nine didn't seem to be a man of many words.

"Our mentors suggested it," Maisie answered.

"Did you say anything about allying from someone outside Nine?" He finally asked. At first, Romeo had considering allying with Kia, but she was a morphling addict. She was a niece of Tamora, and Romeo had to wonder if his district partner had picked up the habit from her Victor family member. Or if the girl was just unlucky enough to be raised in Lower. Either way, he doubted she would survive long once the withdrawals kicked in. As cruel as it was to admit, she would only drag him down.

Maisie seemed to be considering it before she looked at her district partner. "What do you think, Wallace?"

The boy's eyes met his and held them only for a moment. Then he shrugged. "I'm okay with him if you are."

"I'm okay with it. Looks like you're in," Maisie said.

He hoped they didn't think he was like Sixes, other Victors. Other than Router, each one of Sixes Victors had all been fighters on the streets of Lower before they were reaped. Either as an Enforcer like Mercedes or street smart kids like his grandfather and Tamora. They had braved the harsh reality of Lower. Lived through the constant, never-ending gang wars. Though Romeo attending school in the poorer part of the district, he never lived there. The closest he got was fights in school. It was why he carried a knife with him whenever he went to Lower.

"So, what can you do?" Wallace asked, swallowing a bite of beef.

"I can handle a knife," he offered.

"Can you show me how to use one?" Maisie asked, her eyes lighting up. "Wallace can use a sickle since he works out in the fields, but I'm useless."

District 9 was the district that produced all the grain for Panem. From the pictures he had seen of past Victory Tours, he knew they had at least one field a grain. They showed that one field every year when the tour came through Nine. But Maisie mentioned fields. Plural. More than one. Before he had left Six, the only plants he had seen were the ones that grew through the crackles in the sidewalks. And those were cut as soon as they came through. About all Romeo knew of Nine was that it was more rural, and had at least a single grain field. A world of difference from Six.

"Sure," he answered Maisie. "I can try. But you might be better off learning from a trainer."

**Ryker Bedford**

**District 2 Male Tribute**

He brought his sword up, blocking the trainer's blade as it was brought down on top of him. Ryker lunged up, pushing the trainer's blade away, swinging his own blunted sword against the trainer's neck.

The Capitol woman smiled. "That's your win, Ryker."

At the sword station, they had three trainers. She was the only woman, and Ryker had to admit she knew her way around a sword.

"Not bad, Two," Gleam called. Ryker turned around, noticing the same cocky smile was once again plastered across his lips. Ryker couldn't say he actually hated a lot of things, but that smile was really started to grate on his nerves. "Bet I could do better."

Ryker grunted. "Then go ahead."

Stepping away from the trainer, he offered Gleam his sword. The boy from One gladly took it, walking up to the trainer.

"Is he like that all the time?" Ryker asked Helene. The girl from One shrugged.

"We both attended ABE, but I was never friends with him," she offered. "He climbed his way up to Duke quicker than a lot of other kids though. He might be an ass, but he's dangerous. Don't underestimate him."

Ryker frowned. "Duke?" He said, testing the unfamiliar word on his tongue.

"It's a rank at the Academy. Only Duke's are allowed to volunteer," she explained.

In a way, One's academy seemed to be similar to Two's Institute of Peace and Prosperity. Stone, Bronze, Silver, and Gold were the classes at the Institute. Though unlike One, only two cadets were allowed to volunteer as a tribute. The two mentors assigned those for the year chose the tribute they wanted from the Gold class. It was because of that system that he almost hadn't been allowed to volunteer. Before the quell had been announced, Ryker had only been a Silver class. The institute had wanted to go another way and wasn't going to promote him. Of course, that changed when he was one of the very people who could volunteer, but the memory of the Head Master explaining to him he wouldn't be able to become Gold still made him angry.

Ryker wondered how Four's school functioned.

"I won," Neptune bragged, coming to stop next to him. Speak of Four and he shall appear. Cassandra walked up next to him, a frown on her face.

"What happened?" He asked.

"Challenged her to see who had better aim with a spear," Neptune said, his perfect grin on his face. "I won."

"You better hope they have a spear or trident in the arena," Cassandra growled. "You aren't very good with a sword."

Neptune laughed. "Yeah, that's true."

"Where's your partner, Neptune?" Helene asked.

Neptune pointed across the gym. "Over at the climbing station. The record for the wall is a minute and a half. Set during the Sixty-Sixth games. She wanted to see if she could beat it."

Ryker didn't understand why the girl from Four would even bother. They weren't here to break records set by dead tributes. They had volunteered to kill people for a shot at fame and glory. Then again, it wasn't like either of the tributes from Four volunteered. In a normal year, Ryker wouldn't have accepted them in the pack. But given the quell twist, they might have been the best Four had to offer. Neptune was easily the best aim with his trident. Ryker still believed he had a better grasp with a spear.

"I bet I could beat you here," Helene said, a smile twisting its way onto her face. "Want to see who's the fastest?"

Ryker looked back Gleam, still fighting the trainer. He was obviously skilled, but in terms of a sword, Casandra and he were better. For a moment Ryker wondered what weapon Gleam was best with. Whatever it was, it seemed the boy from One was avoiding it.

"I'm game," Ryker decided. "Let's wait for Gleam to finish."

He was the leader of the pack, so Ryker would stay. The Institute had drilled into him how important it was to let the leader take charge. He could deal with Gleam until the pack broke up. Then he'd be free to cut Gleam's head clear off his body.

**Author's Note:**

**Hello! I hope you have enjoyed the seventh chapter!**


	8. Chapter 8: Training Day 3

**Disclaimer:**

**I do not own the Hunger Games book series. It is the property of Suzanne Collins and the publisher Scholastic Press. The movies are owned by Lionsgate and other associated producers and creators. I am simply a humble fan, writing this for the enjoyment of other fans. Please support the official release.**

_Training Day 3/Private Gamemaker Sessions_

**Odin** **Actorius**

**Victor of the Seventy-Third Hunger Games**

Odin watched the elevator close, the sight of Cassandra and Ryker disappearing. Most districts tended to have one mentor per-tribute. Or one for both tributes, if they were lucky enough. The alliance tended to operate in a very different way. Each tribute was given a mentor and two other Victors for their team. Enobaria was the mentor of Cassandra, but he had been assigned as part of Cassandra's team, along with Artemis. Lyme, Nero, and Janus made up Ryker's team.

The twenty-year-old was Two's newest Victor and with luck this year that would change. Last year was supposed to be Two's year as well, but Odin's sister Clove had been killed by the giant boy from Eleven. He and Clove were supposed to be Two's answer to Gloss and Cashmere, but that never happened. Instead, Twelve finally won.

"Odin, Mars wants to see you at Eternity," Enobaria said, staring at the official sponsor papers. "Said it was important. Might help Two get ahead."

Odin knew by Two, she meant Cassandra. Cassandra was her cousin after all. Still, as the official mentor, Enobaria was his boss until Cassandra either won or lost. He grabbed his coat on the way out.

By the time Odin was standing in front of the Training Center, a car was already waiting for him. Mars Cimber was the Victor of the Twenty-Ninth Hunger Games and one of the most popular Victors who had ever come out of Two. His connections were invaluable towards Two's victory effort.

Eternity was one of the most popular clubs in the Capitol. It operated twenty-four hours a day and was one of the best places for a Victor to find the wealthy and powerful Capitol citizens. One of the best places for sponsor hunting. And a place anyone new to the sponsor game was better off avoiding.

During the Seventy-Fourth, Odin's mentor Bruce had only allowed him to go to Eternity once, shortly after Clove had died last year. They wanted as much money as they could get for Cato, but in the end, it didn't matter. Odin was on Cassandra's team, so she was who he wanted to win. In the event she died, he was rooting for Ryker.

None of the districts in the alliance had yet to win a quell. If Two won, that would firmly put them higher than One and Four.

The front of the club blazed with neon lights, and a line of Capitol citizens extended all the way down the street. As soon as Odin climbed out of the car (the driver held the door for him), the crowd of people took one look at him before they started screaming. The bouncer looked at him and stood aside, letting Odin pass. Eternity was a well known Victor hang out, and that was one of the reasons it was so popular. Victor's were always welcome.

It didn't take much time at all to find Mars. The old Victor was sitting at the bar, chatting it up with a woman who was young enough to be his daughter. She had her hand on his leg, and it didn't take a genius to see how uncomfortable he was. His wife was still alive, baking cookies for everyone in the village. When they get back to Two, she'll probably have a batch freshly made. Hopefully with another Victor in toe.

Odin walked in next to the woman, putting his hand on her shoulder. She looked back at him and must have seen a a look in his eyes because she backed away quickly.

"You're Odin Act-"

"Always a pleasure to meet a fan," he said with his best smile. Gentle, yet firmly, he pushed the woman away. "I'm sorry ma'am, but I have some business with Mars. Official mentor business. You understand."

By her own expression, she might understand but she wasn't happy about it. Still, she disappeared into the crowd, leaving Odin to sit by one of Two's oldest Victors.

"That was well handled, my boy," Mars Cimber praised. From across the bar, two shot glasses of blue liquid were slid down the bar, Mars catching both. "She's persistent if nothing else."

"Who was she?" Odin asked, taking the glass offered to him.

"The granddaughter Cassius Lionheart," he answered.

"Who is Cassius?" Odin asked. The name sounded familiar, but he couldn't place it.

Mars chuckled. "You don't remember a lot of what you learned into the Institute, do you? Lucius Hallow was the Head Gamemaker until he retired after the First Quarter Quell. His crowning achievement. He set the record for the longest time a Head Gamemaker remained in that position."

Odin nodded. He knew all of this. The first quarter-century had the games just getting started. Back then the games were a lot different than the end product they became. It wasn't until the nineteenth Hunger Games that it resembled what it was today.

"Well, after Lucius retired, Cassie became the next Head Gamemaker. He ran the show during my own games," Mars explained. After he finished, the memory suddenly hit Odin; he recalled learning about him in his Games History class.

"What did his granddaughter want with you?"

"The old Lion isn't doing too well. Doctors gave him a few months to live. He wants to see me before his passes. I was always his favorite Victor."

".. You don't want to go?" Odin guessed.

Mars gave a solemn nod. "I did my duty for my country boy. I did all that was asked of me. My own mentor Horus chose me personally. I was proud to spare the thirteen-year-old boy who was reaped a trip into the arena. I've been a Victor for a long time, helped pull two people out of those horrid places. I've lived a long life. But I hated being in the arena. Cassius took a lot from me in that place."

Odin was shocked. He knew of Mars from his mentor, Brutus. He talked about the old Victor a lot. Mars was the one who pulled him out of the arena. Brutus painted the picture of a strong Victor who gladly served his country. Mars sitting in front of him didn't sound that way at all. He sounded old. Tired.

"Sorry about that, my boy. You didn't come here to hear an old man's rambling." Mars reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope. He put it on the wooden bar and slide it across towards Odin. A regretful look appeared in the old man's eyes. "That should help our tributes. Hopefully, you can use it to pull one of them out."

Odin took the letter and started to open it. "Not here boy," Mars said, clamping his hand over Odin's. "Somewhere private."

"Okay," Odin agreed. Mars removed his hands and tucked the letter into his jacket pocket. When he looked back at Mars, the old man's eyes bore into his.

"You've lost so much," Mars whispered quietly.

**Gleam Delmas**

**District 1 Male Tribute**

Staring out at the Capitol skyline from the roof, Gleam knew one thing for sure. He didn't want to be in the games. He didn't want to participate in the slaughter the other tributes. But Fortune and her system made that wish all but impossible, since he was cursed with the fate of being born in District 1.

Gleam wished he was back in One, not attending the Academy, but with his family. Not here, pretending to be a killer Career. The mask he put on wasn't who he wanted to be, but it was the rule he was expected to play. In the same way Gloss and Cashmere were expected to play their roles.

How might his life turned out differently had he been born in any other district? If given the choice, he'd prefer Two or Four. It was a nice dream, but no matter how much he wished otherwise, he was a One. He was going into the Hunger Games, and he'd do everything he could to come back home. Even if he had to slaughter his way out of the arena.

"How are you feeling?" Gloss asked from behind him. Gleam hadn't even heard the elevator door open. When he turned around, Gloss offered him a glass of hot chocolate.

Gleam took the cup in both hands. "As well as I can," he admitted.

"I know you don't want to be here," Gloss said, taking the spot next to him. "But you volunteered for it, no matter what Fortune did. It's not fair, but you're going to have to keep going as you have been."

"I know," Gleam muttered. He took a drink of the hot chocolate, feeling the liquid burn down his throat.

"You're trained for this. You're a member of the alliance. There's a very good chance you can make it out Gleam," Gloss encouraged. Gleam didn't meet his eyes, instead staring out at the city.

"I hate this place," he blurted out, unable to stop his mouth before it moved. For a moment he was worried about what Gloss might think of his comment, but then he realized he didn't care. He was the one who was going into the arena in a few days. He had the right to vent.

To his surprise, Gloss didn't rebuke him. "Don't ever let them hear you say that. Anyone from the Capitol. If the Gamemakers get wind of it, you'll never make it out of the arena. If you do become a Victor, the Capitol will make you regret uttering those words. But between you and me, I hate this city too."

For a moment, neither tribute or mentor spoke. Gleam was glad he wasn't alone in his hate for this place. When he won, he knew he'd hate returning to this city every year. He wondered if this was how his aunt Shimmer felt when she was in the games. Did she hate this place too? Not that he'd ever get to ask her.

"What are you thinking about?" Gloss asked, turning to look at him.

Gleam shrugged. "My aunt. Shimmer. She had come to the Capitol as well. I used to watch her interview, back at the Academy."

"Shimmer? I know a few Shimmers myself," Gloss said. Gleam wasn't surprised. Shimmer was a common name in One, though not as common as Diamond. "Are you related to Shimmer Croix?"

Gleam shook his head. "Shimmer Delmas. She was the runner up in the last quell."

**Kia Railway**

**District 6 Female Tribute**

The color of the paint swirls was so pretty. Mixing them around and around together made them even prettier. She grabbed a jar of blue and threw it on the green and brown tree bark, and watched as the paint-splattered. She giggled quietly to herself.

"This is pathetic," a voice behind her sneered. Kia turned back and saw the handsome boy from One looking at her, his arms crossed. Her eyes found his blonde hair, curling atop his head. It was such a pretty color!

"Your hair is so light," Kia said, almost wishing she could reach out and touch it. But Mercedes said she wasn't to touch any of the tributes. It was against the rules, and she didn't want to break the rules did she? Still, Kia thought it was almost worth it just to get a touch of his wonderful colors.

Kia couldn't understand why the boy's face flickered for a second until she released he was like her parents. They wore the same kind of masks, hiding behind them to protect themselves. Though his mask was a lot different. She couldn't understand what was different about it though...

"I don't want some gutter rat touching-"

"I'm sorry for you," she said, interrupting him. The boy stopped in his tracks, a startled look on his face.

"Sorry for me?" He repeated. It took him a second, but he laughed. "What do you have to feel sorry for me about? I'm going to win and become a Victor. The only Victor from One who has ever won a Quarter Quell."

Kia didn't understand what he was talking about. Quell? Victor? She thought she should know these words. They seemed to be familiar, but no matter how much she thought about it, she couldn't understand them. But she did understand masks.

"You must be in a lot of pain," Kia explained. "To wear a mask like that.

The boy stared at her in open shock. Why was he doing that? Didn't he understand how painful it could be? Before she could inform him of her parents and the masks they wore, the boy turned around and left.

With nothing else to do, Kia returned to her colors on the branches, mixing in the blue.

**Wren Hyde**

**District 10 Male Tribute**

"I liked your parade costume," a voice said from his side. Wren turned his head and saw the girl from Seven smiling at him, leaning against the side of the station. "The flaming cow belt was brilliant."

Wren gave the girl a reproachful look. His stylist was an idiot and he had told the woman that fact to her face before and after the parade. That didn't win her friendship, but she was going to watch him die. The last thing he cared about was being her friend.

"Says the tree girl," Wren fired back. District 7 was the last district that should be saying that to someone else. They had been trees as long as he could remember.

The girl laughed. "Yeah, you have me there. Sequoya Gardner. You know, why don't we be allies?"

Wren blinked. He had assumed he was a forward person, but she just came out and said it. No lead up at all. "Why?"

Sequoya grinned. "My district partner isn't going to live past the first day. The Careers aren't going to take me, and the rest of them are all lambs to the slaughter."

"And I'm not?" Wren asked dryly. Other than studying at the survival stations, he had stayed near the camouflage. He had seen Peeta Mellark save himself last year with nothing but camouflage. Sure Katniss had to save him, but he had proven how useful the talent could be.

"I can swing an axe. Been working on a forest crew since I was little, but I couldn't tell you the difference between two red berries. I've seen you spending a lot of time at the survival stations," she said.

"So you want someone who can help you survive?" Wren said bluntly.

She nodded. "And in return, you get someone who can fight."

He could use a knife fairly well, but at this point in time, he didn't know if he should mention that to her. She could protect him, sure, but what happened when they were the last two left? She would put an axe through his skull. If she didn't know he could use a knife, it might put that battle in his favor. Perhaps he would be able to poison her slowly...

Suddenly he didn't feel so good. The idea of planning how to murder her? A girl he had just meant, who had done nothing to him. She was just unlucky enough to put reaped in the same games as him.

"Sure," he managed to mumble. The idea of going into the arena alone scared him, and he was happy to not be alone... A lot less happy about being the last two in the arena.

She stuck her hand out. "Nice to meet you."

**Plutarch Heavensbee**

**Head Gamemaker**

"Send them in," he called.

Leaning back in the most comfortable chair that the Capitol had to offer, Plutarch was ready to evaluate this year's worth of tributes. All of them were related to a Victor in some way, so he knew many people in the Capitol were hoping for more exciting games than usual, but just being related to a Victor didn't mean that they had any more of a chance than anyone else. The relatives of Victors had been in the games before, and they didn't always win.

As the other Gamemakers around him started in on the feast (a roasted boar, dripping with juices. Creamy pumpkins with silver nuts. Roasted birds with cream stuffed inside), he settled with a cup of the finest wine to come out of District 11.

Helene Dulac was the first tribute to enter. "You may start," he called.

To his surprise, she went straight for a whip, something she hadn't even touched in training. More than that, the one she chose had shards of glass connected to the end. She handled the whip like she had been doing it all her life. Which she probably had.

She moved over to the axes next, and threw three of them, hitting the target dead on. More than a few of his colleagues expressed their appreciation, though if it was because of Helene's skills or body, he didn't know.

_She'll be in Snow's Victor ring if she wins_, Plutarch thought. "You're dismissed."

Helene left with a bow. Looking down the screen in front of him, Plutarch assigned her a 9, waiting to see if any of his colleagues had anything to offer.

When no one said anything, he sent for the boy. Gleam was a tribute who attracted a few of his fellow Gamemaker's attention. Like his district partner, if he won he was going straight to Snow's ring.

He quickly went through nearly every weapon, demonstrating a level not many Career tributes have ever reached, it was impressive. When he grabbed the scythe from its place on the wall, a few people around him looked at the boy closer. The last time a Career had been skilled with a scythe was the Seventieth Hunger Games when a boy from Two cut off the head of Annie Cresta's district partner.

He swung it like the Grim Reaper himself, and Plutarch made a note to include a scythe. Either at the Cornucopia itself, or one of the rooms.

As Gleam left, Plutarch assigned him a score of 11.

Cassandra Arellius came in next, a beautiful girl in her own right. Only Two's special agreement, would shield her from Snow's ring.

Cassandra went for a katana of all things. He knew she was skilled with a standard sword, but it appeared she came alive with that weapon. Though she moved on to other weapons after she finished running through a set of attacks, Plutarch made another note to put a Katana into the arena.

As Cassandra left the room, he spoke quickly with the other Gamemakers, giving her a 10.

Ryker Bedford didn't have the same aggression as the boy from Two did last year, but like all Careers, he was skilled. He stayed away from most of the weapons, preferring knives and spears. He had only picked up a spear a few times in training, and it seemed he held back. The boy knew how to fight with them, and throw them. The same could be said with knives, though he didn't bother with any other weapons. Beyond showing he was capable of using them.

Another quick conversation and they assigned him a 9.

The boy from Three was unremarkable, and for his efforts were rewarded a 2.

The girl from Three was hardly better. According to her records, she could be the next Beetee, and he made sure to have some special equipment put in the arena for her. Still, she wasn't very impressive, and they assigned her a 3.

Margaret Crest made her way inside, another victim for the President. Like the two from One, she and her district partner were desirable enough.

She made the rounds with the weapons, seemingly at ease with any of them. She excelled at unarmed combat, skillfully dodging the trainer, and taking him down from behind. She demonstrated her knowledge of fish and promised she wouldn't go hungry in the arena if there was a source of fish.

After she left, a quiet conversation awarded her a 9.

One of the most talked-about tributes entered next. The younger brother of Finnick Odair. Finnick was one of the most popular Victors ever to come out of the games, easily ranking the top five. Neptune Odair had all his swagger and good looks. His talents with weapons were nothing to scoff at, and he could use Finnick's signature weapon almost as easily. By the time he left with little more than a wink and a smile, he was awarded a 10.

Plutarch felt sorry for him. The boy will be in the same situation as his brother if he won. Unlike Finnick though, he wouldn't have a few year reprieves. Not even Snow touched Finnick until he was sixteen. The same would not hold true for Neptune.

The girl from Five demonstrated she could start a fire and was fairly competent with a knife. They awarded her a 3 and sent her on her way. Her district partner fared little better, earning himself a 4 after he outran all the trainers.

Kia from Six spent her until the session painting a picture of the neighborhood she grew up in. They gave her a 2 and called for her partner.

Romeo Night wasn't like Kia. Like the boy from Five, he outran the trainers, but he also demonstrated an impressive agility as he dodged four out of the five rubber throwing knives. He cleverly positioned a trainer near a bush, where Romeo jumped out and cut the trainer's neck with a rubber knife. When the two other trainers rushed him, he vanished into the bushes, climbing up the fake tree by the time they got to him. He threw waves of rubber knives at them when they were close enough.

It was a close call, but in the end, he was awarded an 7 for his effort.

The tributes from Seven both showed they could swing an axe. Though they weren't the most competent tributes he had seen from the lumber district, they were good enough. They were both awarded a 6.

The girl from Eight tried to fight a trainer with a knife, but it ended with a rubber knife to her throat fifteen-seconds later. She was able to light a fire and determine which berries were good to eat. They gave her a 3.

Her district partner didn't do any better and had scored a 2 with his failure to even start a fire.

Maisie from Nine outran two trainers and climbed a tree faster than Romeo. She climbed a fake cliff face and then outran three trainers. She showed some ability with a knife, but she wasn't anything special. She was given a 5.

Wallace went straight for the sickle, a standard for tributes from his district. He knew how to use it, and cut three dummies to pieces quickly. He showed he could use knives, throw a spear well for an outlier. He wrestled a trainer to the ground and had enough force to break a neck. He was awarded an 8.

The girl from Ten herded cattle. She could use a whip, though she was nowhere near as skilled as Helene. She lit a fire, was able to last a whole minute fighting a trainer with a rubber knife, and evaded three trainers for two minutes. She was given a 5.

The boy from Ten did much the same things, only he was objectively better at each one of them. Unlike his partner, he wrested the trainer to the ground, stole his life, and stabbed the trainer in the chest. If the knife was real, he would be dead. He was given a 6.

The girl from Eleven evaded three trainers for five minutes. She could start a fire. Identified which plants and fruits were edible. She turned out to be a fairly good shoot with throwing knives, though not as good as a Career. She was given a 7.

Her district partner, a small wiry boy, evaded capture for fifteen minutes straight. He didn't attack, just ran and hide. Rather effectively ran and hide. He was given a 5.

Rye Mellark followed Peeta's rout from the year before. He wrestled two trainers at once, throw huge a weigh across the room like they were nothing, and was a fairly decent painter. Like his brother, he was given an 8.

Nelly from Twelve could light a fire and grill a squirrel. She couldn't hit the broad side of a bran with a knife, but she could run away. She was given a 3.

Once the private sessions were over, Plutarch breathed a sigh of relief. Having the numbers, he transmitted them to Flickermen for tonight, and finally decided he would have some of the feast. If nothing else, the games this year would be interesting.

**Author's Note:**

**Hello! I hope you have enjoyed the eight chapter!**

**The scores Plutarch assigns the tributes are their official scores.**


	9. Chapter 9: Interviews

**Disclaimer:**

**I do not own the Hunger Games book series. It is the property of Suzanne Collins and the publisher Scholastic Press. The movies are owned by Lionsgate and other associated producers and creators. I am simply a humble fan, writing this for the enjoyment of other fans. Please support the official release.**

_Interviews_

**Emblem Caron**

**Marquis Class**

She didn't want to be here. She didn't want to be stuck in the Academy for Beauty and Excellence, attending her Advanced Persona Class. It wasn't just because girls and boys shared different classes when it came to how they presented themselves.

Emblem didn't want to end up going into the arena and kill the other tributes. A natural actor, she was pretty sure that she had all her fellow _students _were convinced otherwise, but the truth was that Emblem Caron wished she was back home with her family.

Unfortunately for her, her family was cursed with being citizens of One.

As the instructor droned on and on, Emblem reflected on her poor luck of being born in the luxury district. District 1 was the single richest district in all of Panem. They didn't have a poor class of people in the way the other districts did. Even the poorest of the poor had jobs that paid well enough to afford a small apartment for themselves. Afford enough to eat and keep working.

The richest people in District 1 were the seven families who founded District 1. The Founding Families were not only hands-down the richest people in One but also the richest people in any district, perhaps only outclassed by the Victors. The Founding Families were so rich they had more money than some of the richest people in the Capitol itself, though they were far from the richest people in Panem. The upper crust of the Capitol elite outstripped them on that claim.

The rest of One was wealthier than the other districts, but they were by no means even close to as rich as the Founding Families. Most people in One lived a privileged life by other district's standards, and if that was where it ended for Emblem, she would be fine with it.

Emblem Caron might have had a very different life had Fortune Croix never won the Hunger Games. She had come from a gutter family, training personally under Apollo Laval, One's very first Victor. The day she won the games was a dark day for Emblem's home. President Summer had died the year before, and a young Coriolanus had just taken power. When Fortune returned from the Capitol, she came with the new President's blessing.

The day Fortune returned, she replaced the district mayor and every other staffer in the Justice Building. From there she set up her Luxury System. The same system that continued to oppress the district. Under Luxury System, men and women lost the right to marry who they wanted. District officials would decide who you had children with, for the goal of breeding more handsome and beautiful children. The fittest and best-looking children were forced to attend the Academy for Beauty and Excellence. The graduates from the Academy who never went in the games usually ended up as Peacekeepers or being bought by rich Capitol citizens for bodyguards. While District 2 supplied most of the country's Peacekeepers, District 1 was the only district that staffed its own ranks, allowing the ones from Two to be stationed elsewhere. Unlike Two's Peacekeepers, the ones from One never left the district.

The best looking children who weren't fit for the Academy often ended up in a pleasure house, where the wealthy Ones or Capitol citizen could come visit on vacation. District 1 had almost as many Capitol tourists as District 4. It wasn't uncommon for a boy or girl in the pleasure houses to be bought by a Capitol citizen. Though the ones deemed superior breeding stalk never left the district, instead of producing as many offspring as possible.

To the end of producing more superior children, abortion was strictly controlled. Girls were only given them if they had a child with inferior breeders.

Some say the luckiest ones were the people deemed unfit to bread and were sterilized. The system mostly ignored them, and they would live unmolested lives, though never being able to have children of their own.

District 1's industry was luxury, and the people of the district were by no means exempt from that fact. Almost everyone in One was forced into a place in Fortune's Luxury System.

Only two groups of people in One were free of the system. The Founding Families and the Victor's, as well as those the Victor's chose to shield.

The Founders all had Capitol connections, and the money to make sure their children were safe. Fortune couldn't compel them to take part in her sick system.

The Victors were already owned by President Snow, and the rumor was that he made it clear Fortune knew not to try and play with his toys.

Of course, being related to a Victor didn't mean you were necessarily safe. The boy she loved, Gleam, might have been cousins with Cashmere and Gloss, but his mother had never been close to his cousins despite being blood, and thus didn't receive the same protection as the family's of the Victors did. Gleam Delmas had never wanted to be a tribute, but when he turned seven he was forced to undergo the same tests as every other kid in the district. A month later he was taken from his family and enrolled in the Academy of Beauty and Excellence.

As soon as it became known that he was related to Gloss and Cashmere, the Head Mistress (Fortune Croix herself) took an interest in him. He was pushed into the more advanced classes until years later he was selected to be a tribute candidate. Only the candidates were allowed to volunteer. He might be a candidate, but he never had any intention of volunteering, despite how he was at the top of all his classes.

That was until the Head Mistress called him into her office, and told him point-blank that in the event that he did not secure his place as the male tribute, he would be sent to one of the pleasure houses. His sisters would join him, and his parent's debts would all be called in. They were too old to join the ranks of One's Peacekeepers to pay off those debts, and they'd be sold into the pleasure houses as well.

Gleam's sisters had all been declared breeders, so they at least had a better life than the one that awaited the sex slaves at the pleasure houses. The night before the reaping, he had confided all of it her. And Emblem couldn't do anything to help him. She was useless. The next day, Gleam ran as fast as he could. outstripping the two other running boys.

He promised her he would get home. If he won the games, Emblem and his sisters would live with him in Victors Village. His parents could quit their dead-end jobs, working long hours into the night. He could move them all to Victors Village and protect them from Fortune's system.

All that it would cost him was his soul. In the grand scheme of things, Gleam thought it was a fair price to pay. Emblem wasn't so sure. Then again, if he didn't win, she might consider working hard to get into the Duke Class. The Duke's were the only ones allowed to volunteer, and while she had no love of the games, becoming a Victor was the only way to earn one's freedom from the Luxury System. Then you traded masters and became a slave of the Capitol.

From Emblem's point of view, it was preferable. For as long as she remembered, she had never been attracted to men. Gleam was her best friend, but he never appealed to her in that way. She liked girls, and she often wished she had been born a boy. If she had been, she might have been able to have a normal life under the Luxury System. People did not get together for love in District 1. They got together to make superior offspring, and if she graduated from the Academy without going into the games, she would be paired together with a boy _befitting _her. And they would have as many children as she could make.

Unless she was brought by someone in the Capitol for a bodyguard, that would be her fate no matter what career she chose afterward. At least she wouldn't be put into a pleasure house.

The bell-ringing signaled the end of class, and Emblem closed her textbook.

"All right girls," Madam Bisset called. "The interviews will be starting in a few hours. Your class will be in auditorium number 3 to watch. Remember, Head Mistress Fortune will be the one dulling out punishments for anyone who does not attend."

In a normal year, Emblem might take that as a challenge. But her best friend was on that stage and she was going to watch his interview. It was the least she could do.

Grabbing her book bag, she threw her books in it and hauled the bag over her shoulder. As soon as she was out of the door, a burst of cold wind hit her. It was summer, and One tended to get hot. It was at times like these Emblem was glad for the Academy's uniforms requiring girls to wear skirts. Even if it was hitched far above her knees, the cool breeze on her legs felt wonderful.

"Emblem!" Pride's voice called out. Emblem turned around, and saw Pride, and Wonder running towards her. Pride was even more beautiful than her. The girl had curves in all the right places, her face was more filled in, and she was as deadly as she is beautiful. Emblem wouldn't admit it, for fear of ending their friendship, but she had been pining over Price since she was thirteen. Had the Quell been different, Pride would have probably been One's tribute this year. She was easily one of the best students in the Academy, and the fastest girl among the Duke's. Only Glimmer was quicker, and she died last year. Pride was also eighteen, and would forever lose her chance to be a tribute, which Emblem was thankful for. After Glimmer's death last year because of that bitch from Twelve, she didn't want any of her friends in the games.

Wonder was Pride's twin brother. In all honesty, he looked how Pride would look if she were a boy. Emblem knew he was the desire that many of the girls, and had she swung that way, she might have pinned over him instead of his sister. Like Pride, Wonder had lost his chance to enter the games. He was the fastest among the boys and could have beaten Marvel to the stage last year, but Fortune had kept him back. She had wanted sibling tributes, mentored by the sibling Victors Gloss and Cashmere. It pleased Emblem in no small way that the quell had taken that from her.

Though Wonder was one of her best friends, in the future he might also become her jailer. Fortune had made it clear that if Emblem didn't go into the arena, Wonder would become her husband. Fortune had said the two of them would have beautiful children. Emblem couldn't deny they would, but she didn't want to have Wonder's children. Not like what she wanted really mattered in the grand scheme of District 1.

"Come on. Let's go to the bleachers," Wonder said when he was close to her. "I got the good stuff. All the way from Seven."

Indeed he did. The small green plant was the only thing that could calm her nerves, and firing it up in the Academy was grounds for expulsion. The plant certainly calmed her, and as she giggled at her two friends, she couldn't remember what had got her so down before.

Wonder and Pride were the only two who she knew who could get the plants, and that was probably because of their family's connection to the Laval's. As a Founding Family, there wasn't much the Laval's couldn't get.

They stayed where they were, even after they smoked all they could. If anyone saw the right then, they might very well get caught. And Emblem still hadn't decided if she wanted to volunteer next year.

It was only when the sky darkened that the four friends crawled out of their hiding spot. Emblem bid Wonder and Pride goodbye, both of them watching in the first auditorium. She was only a little bit surprised to discover she was the last person, and they were planning to send someone out to look for her.

She took her spot with the other Marquise class. She was forced to sit next to Precious, one of the girls she really hated around the Academy. She came from a Founding Family, which meant that she was free of the system Emblem suffered under. She was only here for the prestige of attending. If she walked out, she'd go back to her family's estate.

Precious returned her sneer, and the two girls looked away from each other. The lights around them dimmed, and the holoscreen flickered to light.

"Ladies and Gentlemen! Our Master of Ceremonies; CAESAR FLICKERMEN!

Caesar's theme burst to life. The stage slowly turned, revealing two chairs, one filled by the man himself.

"Thank you! Thank you!" Caesar called, giving a bow. "Thank you for being here tonight, on the eve of the Seventy-Fifth Annual HUNGER GAMES!"

The crowd burst out cheering.

"In just as moment, they're going to be out here! All the tributes you've heard about! Are you excited? LET THEM HEAR IT!"

Another roar of cheering, Flickermen laughing the whole. Like he wasn't going to lead out a parade of doomed kids. Like they all weren't going to be murdered in the arena.

All around the room, her fellow classmates clapped and cheered along. As much as Emblem disliked doing so, she knew the trainers were watching. If she was found not clapping, that might be enough to send her to a Reeducation class.

"Seventy-Five years! Can you all believe how long it's been? Hopefully I don't look that old," Caesar laughed, prompting the crowd to reassure him. He didn't look any different from any other year. Well, other than his golden hair. "Now normally we interview the young ladies first, but if you've seen the last two quells, you'll now that we like to shake it up a little. Our first tribute comes to use from District 1! Everyone, give a warm round of applause for Gleam Delmas!"

Caesar's music played louder, and Emblem's breath caught when she saw her best friend since the parade. He was wearing a black suit, a red tie down the middle. Emblem wondered how they got the tie around his neck. He never liked them.

Like most of the boys from her district, he goes down the handsome killer rout. Entrancing the audience, and promising as much blood as they can handle at the same time. The boy sitting on that stage isn't Gleam, and it hurts that much more to see his mouth speak those words.

Emblem was glad when his time ended. Helene was next. She knew the girl from the Academy, though Emblem never spoke with her. She expected Helene to go down the same route most of the girls from One took, but she played it mysterious, keeping the audience guessing. Emblem wondered why at first when she remembered that Finnick Odair's brother was a tribute himself. Helene must have thought there was no point going that route when an Odair would steal the stage from anyone else who tried.

The boy from Two talked about all the weapons he could use. He talked about not being able to wait until he got into the arena, and gave the crowd a savage grin.

His partner talked about duty and honor. Loyalty to the country, and how Panem had always treated them right. She looked forward to doing her part in the arena. If there was one thing Emblem could do really well, it was read a person. The girl from Two was a decent actor, but she didn't appear to buy into everything she was saying.

The pair from Three didn't make much of an impression on her, though the girl was obviously smart. She spoke of things Emblem couldn't even understand, about inventions and science.

Like she had predicted, Neptune Odair was all smiles and flirts. The crowd loved him, and Emblem could understand. While he lacked his brother's golden hair (his red locks falling down his face) he didn't lack the sex appeal. No other way to put it. He was easily the best-looking tribute in the games and had he offered to sleep with her, Emblem might just have said yes.

While his district partner lacked his obnoxious good looks, she made up with it by being likable. The crowd loved her. She came off as everyone's friend. Not threatening, but that 9 in training spoke a whole other story.

She glossed over the pair from Five, neither one of them leaving that big of an impression on her. The boy from Six was a natural showman. He responded to all of Caesar's cues, laughed in all the right spots, asked all the right questions, and gave amusing answers.

"Did I tell you about the one time I tried to become a mechanic?" Romeo asked.

"You did not," Caesar prompted.

"Well, there's a reason for that," he Laughed. Caesar and the crowd laughed with him. "Let me tell you the story."

His obviously high district partner had none of his charisma. She talked about colors and how friendly Caesar was. Emblem had to look away from the screen. The girl acted like a child. How could the government let someone like her get reaped?

Both from Seven talked about their family's, and how they would fight as hard as they could to go back to them.

The boy from Eight talked about all the wonderful food he had eaten since he arrived, and how generous the people of the Capitol were.

The girl from Eight talked about clothes, and her desire to become a stylist. If she won the game she wanted to work with Katniss and Cinna on designing clothes.

The boy from Nine didn't speak much, answering questions when prompted. He didn't come off as particularly memorable.

His little district partner talked Caesar's ears off. About her experiences since she got to the Capitol. How kind the trainers, the other tributes, and the people of the Capitol were. Her mother had been coming for years, and she was so glad to finally get to the chance to be there.

The Ten's talked about their home lives. The boy and girl both worked at a ranch, and the girl loved her job. The boy talked about his time painting and seemed to be able to follow Caesar's cues.

The boy from Eleven talked about Thresh Newgrove, last year's tribute from Eleven. The two were close friends, and though his uncle Chaff couldn't bring Thresh back from the arena, he promised the nation he would come back. He refused to let everyone forget about his best friend.

The girl from Eleven talked about her huge family. She had four brothers and three sisters. She told them a little bit about her siblings and parents.

The boy from Twelve didn't have the charisma that his brother did. Peeta Mellark knew how to work the audience if nothing else. His brother lacked that charm, but he turned out to be likable enough. And fans of Peeta in the Capitol would most likely sponsor him.

The girl from Twelve ended up crying in her interview. She wanted to go home and promised her waiting family she would try her best.

After the girl left the stage, Caesar cracked a few more jokes and ended the night with his signature laugh. The holoscreen turned off, and the trainers told everyone to get back to their dorms. Emblem followed the crowd out, her mind on Gleam. He would have to be the last tribute standing if he wanted to make it out of the arena. The only question would be if he could kill his way through them.

**Author's Note:**

**Hello! I hope you have enjoyed the ninth chapter!**

**It might just be me, but I've always imagined a lot of drugs could be grown in Seven, under the right conditions.**

**Last thing. At the time of this chapter beinf posted, I would say I was about half way through the arena chapters. All of that work got deleted, as well as the original interview chapter, unfortunately. Now I will be continuing this story, all the way to the Victor returning home. Getting their new house. But my original draft had the story being much longer than what it will be now. I don't for see this new version lasting more than twenty-five chapters. I've also tried rewriting the interviews as I original had them, but I couldn't. Sorry for any disappointment this has caused anyone :/**


	10. Chapter 10: Bloodbath

**Disclaimer:**

**I do not own the Hunger Games book series. It is the property of Suzanne Collins and the publisher Scholastic Press. The movies are owned by Lionsgate and other associated producers and creators. I am simply a humble fan, writing this for the enjoyment of other fans. Please support the official release.**

_Bloodbath_

**Romeo Night**

**District 6 Male Tribute**

When the sun came up, Romeo hadn't slept at all. Today was the first day of the games, and he would be going into the arena. The terror kept him up all night, watching through his window as the sun slowly rose.

When he couldn't stand lying in bed any longer, Romeo took a quick shower, trying to keep the thought of his impending death out of his mind. He remembered last year, watching as the Careers cut through eleven of the tributes. He could see himself in front of a golden horn, the boy from Two bringing his sword down on his neck.

Was today was the day Romeo was going to die? Forever remembered of the Seventy-Fifth Hunger Games Boy from Six? Would the people in the Capitol laugh at him as he died?

Coming into the dining room (after imagining himself sitting below a tree as Katniss Everdeen dropped a hive of Tracker Jackers on him), he's not alone. Aero Night is sitting at the far side of the table, nursing a cup of hot chocolate mixed with coffee. His favorite drink in the Capitol. Romeo himself was partial to the combination, after his grandfather made him drink it.

"Sit down, my boy," Aero Night called. Romeo took the seat across from him. A white-dressed avox girl set a plate of eggs and bacon down in front of him, followed by a glass of what his grandfather was drinking. "I didn't expect you to be up so early. The hovercraft doesn't leave for two more hours."

"I can't sleep," Romeo answered, taking a large gulp of the drink.

Aero nodded. "I couldn't sleep before my games either. Or the night before the forty-fifth."

"The forty-fifth?" Romeo asked.

Aero nodded. "Your mother never told you?" When he shook his head, Aero continued: "I had to mentor your uncle in the forty-fifth. I almost had him out, until the boy from Four that year gutted him."

Romeo knew his mother wasn't particularly close with her father, but he had to wonder why she never mentioned her brother to him. Did it hurt too much to talk about him? Would she avoid talking about her son if he died?

"What happened?" Romeo asked.

Aero smiled. "Chaff from Eleven killed his murderer in the final battle. When he came to mentor next year I shook his hand. The one that isn't a stump," he clarified.

Romeo gave a small smile.

"When you get into the arena, don't go towards the Cornucopia. That's the most likely place you'll die in the games. You find your allies and get away from it as fast as possible. Don't worry about weapons or supplies. On the first day, everything is cheaper, so I'll send you a knife, but you have to make it out alive. That's the most important part of the first day, do you understand? The Gamemakers will most likely try to tempt you with weapons and food. Don't fall for it. Just run away."

Romeo didn't need to be told twice. Last year's bloodbath was firmly locked in his mind.

"That said, we need to get as much food in you as we can before the games. You don't want to eat too much, but it's better to have a full stomach."

**Katniss Everdeen**

**Co-Victor of the Seventy-Fourth Hunger Games**

Katniss watched from the street, surrounded by all the other mentors, as the hovercraft vanished into the sky. Onboard it was carrying the twenty-four tributes of the Third Quarter Quell. She remembered last year as she boarded that same ship, getting the tracker injected into her arm before the current finally allowed her to move. This year she would not be heading to the arena.

"What happens now?" Peeta whispered to Haymitch.

"Just wait," Haymitch answered. They didn't have to wait long. From further in the city, a fleet of turned the corner. As they appeared, Katniss saw on the hood of the first car had the seal of District 1 emblazoned on it. As the cars passed, she saw that each one of the twelve cars had a seal of one district on the hood. The cars parked in a line in front of the Training Center.

"Come on," Haymitch said. Katniss and Peeta followed him down the cars until they got to the tail end. The last car in line was emblazoned with Twelve's seal. Haymitch held the door open. "Get in."

"Where are we going?" Katniss asked, taking her seat over by the far window. Peeta wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

"Mentor Headquarters," was his answer. He closed the door behind him and grabbed one of the bottles of wine from the middle of the car. Outside the last of the mentors climbed in the cars. One car for reach district.

Like clock work, the twelve cars pulled into the streets. The windows were darkened so no one could see them, but Katniss didn't miss the few people who were already out on the streets. As soon as they saw the cars, some people yelled, some waved, while others whispered to their companions.

The cars drove out of the city itself, taking a road up into the mountains. Katniss watched the scenery change as they passed by. Even in the mountains, they'd occasionally pass people who were taking a morning hike. Like the people in the city proper, they seemed happy to watch.

The cars stopped in front of a black, two-story building. It appeared to be placed near the edge of a drop-off, and Katniss wondered if any mentors ever jumped to their deaths here. It would be such a short walk from the building. Though they had a great view overlooking the Capitol.

As the cars stopped, for the first time since she had left District 12, her eyes landed on Peacekeepers. Real Peacekeepers, not the ones who patrolled the city. Two of them stood on either side of the door, rifles at the ready. Their dark masks hide their faces, making them look sinister.

Mentors began climbing out, and Katniss followed their lead. They all walked by the Peacekeepers without a word. A long hallway greeted them, pictures and busts of past Victors lining the walls.

The hallway exited into a large room. In the room, a giant table was filled with food and desserts. Across from it was a fully stocked bar, which Haymitch made a beeline towards. Lining the walls were more Peacekeepers, each one of them armed. A blank holoscreen was located above the doorway that the hall lead into. At the furriest wall back were twelve doors.

"Where do you think the rooms are for?" She asked Peeta.

"They're the mentor rooms," a voice that wasn't Peeta's answered. Katniss turned around and came face to face with Rowan Holstein, one of Ten's Victors. "In there is where you'll keep track of your tribute. It has everything you need, one room for each district. They're not open until the bloodbath ends though. How about you two have a bite to eat with me? I'll introduce you to the regulars. It seems Haymitch has already started on the booze."

Haymitch was indeed drinking, along with two other Victor's whose names she couldn't place.

"Sure," Peeta answered, putting on his best face. Katniss really didn't want to meet them, but Peeta dragged her with him. She didn't fight, figuring she would have to meet them sooner or later. These are the people she would be working with for the rest of her life, after all.

She recognized the two Rowan lead them to. Beetee's games happened long before she was born, but he was a common face during the games. As one of Three's few Victor's, he was on the screen every year. Wiress and Siren (Three's other Victors) were nowhere to be seen.

Standing beside the genius Victor from Three was a large man. Like Beetee, Blight's games before she was born. He had won four years after Haymitch.

"Katniss Everdeen," Blight introduced himself, extending his hand. "I'm Blight Tanner. I've been wanting to meet you since you won last year. Sorry I couldn't come to see you when you came through Seven. Had a bad case of pneumonia."

She reached her hand out for the handshake. His giant hands wrapped around hers, and the Victor from Seven laughed. "You're even smaller than you looked on screen."

"Perhaps your hands are just too big," Beetee said, drawing attention to him. He fixed his glasses and nodded at her. Katniss felt a peg of guilt as she met his eyes. Last year his district's tribute died because she blew up the supplies. The boy was clever enough to ring the mines. If she hadn't blown up the Careers supplies, Three might have had a real fighting chance. It might have been that boy standing here with him instead of her and Peeta. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

The genius inventor extended his hand, and unlike Blight, his hands didn't cover hers.

"Where's Haymitch?" Blight asked her, grabbing a small cream-filled pie from off the table. "I thought he would be guarding his new Victors?"

"He's having a drink," Peeta explained, pointing over to where Haymitch was. Blight nodded, ate the pie in one bite, and left off towards Haymitch. Beetee stayed with them for a few minutes making polite conversation, before he left as well.

Katniss stayed with Peeta by the food table, as rounds of Victors came and introduced themselves. They welcomed her and Peeta to the club, and most of them were welcoming. She kept her distance from the Victors of One, Two and Four, though Finnick Odair came by to offer her a sugar cube.

She was speaking with Cecelia from Eight when the holoscreen flickered to Flickermen and Claudius Templesmith appeared in the special studio they only used when covering the games.

"Esteemed viewers! I would like to officially welcome you to this year's Hunger Games!" Caesar announced happily.

"And what a special year it is," Claudius Templesmith spoke. "On this, the third anniversary of the rebellion that shook a nation. Quite an interesting twist has taken these games by storm. Each one of our twenty-four tributes are related to one of our beloved Victors! Only one will be coming back. Which family does being a Victor run the strongest in? I guess we'll find out."

The imagine of Claudius and Caesar became a small box in the corner of the screen. Most of the image was replaced by the boy from Six, and the acquiescence watched from his point of view as the tributes were brought into the arena.

"Ladies and Gentlemen! Let the Seventy-Fifth Annual Hunger Games Begin!" Claudius Templesmith announced. Across the screen from the small box showing Caesar and Claudius, a sixty-second countdown begins.

"This arena was rushed to completion," Claudius said. nodding towards the camera. "We haven't been told much about it. The Gamemakers are keeping their secrets close to their chest. But they did send us a message to deliver to our wonderful viewers. Keep an eye out."

The camera panned overhead the tributes. The audience could see the twenty-four standing on their launch pads, ringing the golden Cornucopia in a circle. The Cornucopia and the tributes were in the middle of a large courtyard. To their right was what could only be described as a shining white place. To their left was an open wooden gate, allowing entrance into a dark, twisting forest. The trees were black, and grown close together. There were hundreds of rigid trees, warped at odd angles, giving the whole seen a foreboding air. The courtyard itself was sealed off by walls that towered above the tributes.

"According to our insider, those walls are twelve feet tall," Caesar Flickermen told the audience.

An airily view of the arena showed the forest completely surrounded the grand white palace, though tall white walls seemed to separate the courtyard from the forest.

The countdown hits zero, the gong sounds, and the tributes rush off their launch pads. The bloodbath has officially begun.

A few tributes take the same advice Haymitch gave her the year before. Both tributes from Nine, and the boy from Six rush towards the palace. The girl from Three, and Peeta's brother Rye also take Haymitch's advice and follow the Nine's and Six boy to the palace. Nelly gets separated from Rye and isn't able to find him in the confusion. She runs towards the gate, and disappears into the forest, followed by the morphling girl from Six.

The six Careers run to the Cornucopia, which is full of food, weapons, and backpacks. The boy from Four, Finnick's younger brother, grabbed a spear and threw it at the boy from Seven. It went through his chest and he hit the ground, the first victim of the Third Quarter Quell.

He isn't the last.

The girl from Seven released an engaged snarl but didn't stop running. She weaved her way through the other tributes, grabbing an axe. She didn't stay in the carnage, running towards the palace.

The boy from Ten appeared to be waiting for Seven, and as soon as he saw her, he followed.

The boy from Three didn't stay much longer, sprinting towards the palace.

The girl from Five met her end at the knives of the girl from Four. Her district partner had his head cut off by a black scythe wielded by the boy from One.

Not to be outdone, the boy from Two grabbed a spear and hurled into the head of the boy from Eight.

The girl from Ten attacked the girl from One behind with a knife, but at the last second Helene dodged out of the way. She weaved around the Ten girl, grabbed her wrist and forced her to release the knife. Helene quickly cut her throat.

Mentors of the deceased tributes cried out. Some yelled, some cried. Others continued to watch the screen in silent horror. Katniss turned to look at Haymitch for a second (Nelly was a distant cousin, though he had never met her before the games) before looking back at the screen.

Finnick's young brother grabbed another spear and hurled it at the boy from Eleven's back. His district partner didn't outlast him as Helene's knife found its way into her throat.

The girl from Eight, the last tribute in site of the Careers, was quickly followed by the girl from Two. The Career tackled the much smaller girl before bringing down a curved sword on her neck.

The bloodbath of the Seventy-Fifth Annual Hunger Games came to an end with eight tributes deaths. Just like before she had become a Victor, watching the games gave her no pleasure. She felt a small sliver of relief that Nelly and Rye had survived, but it was overshadowed by the sneer amount of death on screen. She had watched the games every year since she could remember, but it never got easier.

Katniss turned away from the screen as nine cannons echoed in the arena, and a replay of each one of the deaths started. Caesar and Claudius began speaking rapidly over the scenes of death, giving a little information about each of the tributes that died. Katniss had watched them die just a moment ago. She wasn't going to watch it again.

"Katniss. Peeta," Haymitch called from by the drinks. He waved them over, and Katniss made her way towards him. Instead of waiting for them, he turned around and headed towards the back wall full of doors. Katniss looked at Peeta, but he shrugged, and they continued.

When they got to him, Haymitch shoved his thumb against a scanner that was placed on top of the handle. The small screen on the front of the door flashed to life, displaying a black 12. She could hear a lock click, and Haymitch opened the door, holding it for them.

Katniss walked in with Peeta. It was a small room. On the wall opposite the door, a holoscreen was activated, displaying the official games broadcast. Unlike the screen outside, the volume was off.

A few feet away from the holoscreen, two black Terminal's sat in silence. A small chair was connected to each one.

The door closed behind them, and Katniss turned around to look at Haymitch. He pointed to a door on the right wall. "That leads to a small bedroom. Two bunk beds."

He turned to point to the door on the left. "Bathroom and a small shower. If you need something to eat or drink, you can order it and games staff will deliver," he explained.

He walked forward. "Press your thumb to this terminal. Your Victor I.D. is connected to your tribute's idea, and it will display their vital signs. It will also give you access to a special broadcast that follows your tributes twenty-four hours a day. You'll have full access to your tributes sponsor money and access to the games store."

**Author's Note:**

**Hello! I hope you have enjoyed the tenth chapter!**

**I knew from the start I wanted this chapter to mostly be from Katniss' POV. Since she's one of the new Mentors, I could have Haymitch give her an explanation of how the mentors work, and not have it feel out of place. I also wanted to show the bloodbath from a non tribute POV. While most of the chapters will be from a tributes POV, I will occasionally interweave a mentor POV in them.**

**The next chapter will be going into Arena Day 1 and to the tributes POV.**


	11. Chapter 11: Arena Day 1

**Disclaimer:**

**I do not own the Hunger Games book series. It is the property of Suzanne Collins and the publisher Scholastic Press. The movies are owned by Lionsgate and other associated producers and creators. I am simply a humble fan, writing this for the enjoyment of other fans. Please support the official release.**

_Arena - Day 1_

**Temperance Oto**

**Capitol Citizen**

When the Capitol finally came into view, it took her breath away. She had seen it on T.V. every year, but to view it in person was completely different. The sun was just starting to light up the sky, illuminating the greatest city in human history. If one believed the Capitol propaganda.

More than the view, she was relieved. It had taken days for the train to be repaired, and finally was able to move. They had been stuck on the rails, while a team from Six had come to fix the damage. They were the lucky citizens who were able to secure jobs as train engineers that allowed them to live outside Six for as long as they worked, though under constant guard.

That left her with a lot more free time than she'd otherwise have. Maximus thought the best way to pass the time was to watch as much of the games as they could, which made her stomach turn. She might be living in the Capitol now, but she was a Six, born and bred. She had little love for the games.

"Miss Oto," Maximus called. She sighed and reluctantly turned her head away from the Capitol. The old man was sitting at the same dining table they always ate him, empty plates in front of him. "We will shortly be arriving, so we had best have our story straight. You do remember it, right?"

When she nodded, he smiled. "Please, recite it for me."

"I was born in Mayfield," she started. Until a few days ago, Temperance hadn't known the Capitol was ringed by small villages in the mountains, where the rich or old often lived. Mayfield itself was a special closed-off village, where only retired government officials and their families could live. Most of the population of the Capitol wasn't allowed within the small village. The residents of the village didn't have to worry about money or food; everything was taken care of. Due to its closed-off nature, it was common for the few district born citizens who were granted Capitol citizenship, to claim to be born there. "My father finally agreed to let me go live with my uncle in the city."

Temperance wondered just how many people in the city were like her. District citizens that have, for one reason or another, been given Capitol citizenship. She still hadn't learned the reason. When she asked him, Maximus didn't know either. The Capitol citizen who was sponsoring her immigration would explain everything.

Maximus nodded. "From now on, that has been your life until now. If anyone is to ever ask, that is what you must tell you. If you admit you are district born, you could be executed. Or worse."

That was the last thing Temperance wanted. Now that she finally had a real chance to get ahead in life. Back home she had been dating the mayor's son for the status it had given here, but here? As a Capitol citizen? She could do so much more. Maybe even become president someday.

Two white-clad officers were waiting for her when the train pulled in. Maximus had explained that Peacekeepers would look different to those that she was familiar with. The ones in front of her certainly were.

"Miss Oto? A car is waiting for you," the lead women said. "Your sponsor is eager to meet you. He's a very busy man, so let's not keep him."

The group of Peacekeepers escorted her across the station platform, right up to a sleek black car. It reminded her of the car the tributes were put in to be driven to the station. Only it looked much more expensive.

The woman held the door open for her, and Temperance slipped inside. She couldn't stop the look of surprise from crossing her face when she found herself looking at a very old man. She had seen him on T.V. but couldn't remember his name.

"Temperance Oto?" He asked, smiling when she nodded. "I am Honorius Hale. It's very nice to meet you."

"Uh... You too, sir."

The old man smiled. He reached his hand out towards her. Temperance shook it. "For now on, you're Temperance Hale. My niece. My older brother has retired to Mayfield, and as far as anyone in the Capitol is concerned, you're his daughter. Come to live in the big city with her uncle."

Temperance nodded. She had already ghad the speech given to he4.

"So, you're my sponsor?" She asked. He nodded. "Can I ask why?"

Why would he want to sponsor her? He must have been someone rich and or powerful to bring her to the Capitol. She was the niece of a Victor, sure, but other than that? She couldn't see a reason.

Honorius Hale was silent for a moment as the car started. He only spoke once they were on the road. "You wouldn't know it, but I've only had one child. My dear daughter Proserpina. She died shortly after the Second Quarter Quell. Not only was she about your age, but she looked exactly like you."

Whatever she had been expecting, it certainly wasn't that. She was brought to the Capitol because she looked like the daughter of a rich old Capitol citizen?

"As I'm sure you know, religion is... Frowned upon in our country," Honorius started carefully. That was an understatement. Being openly religious was a good way to ensure the Capitol makes your life miserable. "My family, though long since dead, were always secretly religious. I couldn't tell you what they practiced. At the time I bought the party line. After seeing you though? I think they might be onto something."

Did this old man think she was his daughter returned to him? If he did, he was crazy. Insane.

A crazy, insane man who had the power, money, and connections to have her removed from District 6, and given Capitol citizenship. He had taken her from the only place she had even known.

**Neptune Odair**

**District 4 Male Tribute**

When the eight cannons fired, he felt like throwing up. As the rest of his alliance went around counting supplies, he couldn't get the image of the two kids he killed out of his head. It had taken only a second for his spears to end there life, and now he could never take it back. He was a murder. He had blood on his hands.

Was this how Finnick always felt? How did he live with himself, knowing he killed other human beings? The boy and girl he killed weren't fish. They were people, with hopes and dreams and loved ones waiting for them at home. Loved ones who were never going to see them again because he killed them. And if he managed to get back home, Neptune knew he'd never leave this arena. Not really. He'd come back there every night.

"Odair!" Gleam called. Neptune was thankful his back was to his allies. It gave him a moment to rearrange his face into the cocky look he had learned from Finnick.

"Yeah, Delmas?" He called, swaggering his way back over to the others. He made sure he didn't look at his other allies, keeping his focus on their leader. In his hand was a golden trident, similar to the one Finnick won his game with.

"Catch," he said, tossing it at him. Neptune grabbed it out of the air, the familiar weight comforting in his hand. Staring at the trident, all he needed was a net and the Capitol would love him even more. "Margaret, Ryker, what's our situation on food?"

"We easily have enough for a month. Maybe a couple of months if we ration," Margaret said. She and Ryker had pulled all of the food into the Cornucopia, leaving the weapons at the mouth. Normally there were other supplies, but this year there had only weapons and food.

"So, what happens now?" Neptune asked, resting his trident on his shoulder. "We have to move away so the Capitol can collect the bodies, right?"

"Right indeed," Gleam agreed. He pointed at Ryker. "You'll stay here. Guard our supplies. There are a few tributes in the forest, and I don't want them sneaking back here and stealing our food. Or poisoning it. Make sure you get far enough away so they can collect the bodies," he ordered.

Gleam turned to look at him. "Neptune, you and Margaret will go out into the forest. I saw Twelve and Six run that way. Go take care of them. Me, Helene and Cassandra will hunt in the palace. I want at least two more kills before the day is over."

There were some years the alliance murdered their way through thirteen or more tributes. He must want to get the kill count up quickly. And given the look of that black scythe, he might just do it.

**Rye Mellark**

**District 12 Male Tribute**

Running through the open doors of the palace, he found himself in the most luxurious room he had ever seen. Even those on the train and the training center. The room was as large as the Justice Building at home. The walls and floors were white marble. Three gold doors (one in front of him, and one at either side) were open, leading into more hallways. Three crystal staircases were positioned at each corner of the room.

On the walls were two large paintings of President Snow and the Head Gamemaker Plutarch Heavensbee. Smaller paints of other Gamemakers and government Ministers dotted around the walls.

Rance didn't stop running, moving through the gold door in front of them. Rye sprinted after her, running down a hallway full tapestries. The hallways lead them to three more always, which Rance randomly picked one. That hallway leads them to more hallways, some with doors that lead to rooms or other hallways.

When Rance finally stopped running, leaning against the wall and slowly falling to the floor, Rye was breathing more heavily than he ever remembered breathing before.

"All you alright?" He managed to get out. Rance looked at him and appeared to try talking, but all she got out was gasps of breaths.

The ground was covered in a large red carpet, so thick that Rye couldn't feel the ground. No paintings or tapestries hung on the wall, instead, there were white marble columns. On top of them were either small marble statues (appearing to be decorated in gold and a type of purple fabric he had never seen before) and crystal bowls of fruit.

He grabbed one of the bowls and sat down next to Rance. Three green apples, two small vines of grabs, and four yellow bananas filled the bowl. He was about to open a banana when he remembered the lecture of poisoned plants from the survival stations.

"I think the food is safe to eat," Rance muttered breathlessly.

"What makes you say that?" Rye asked.

"I watched a lot of the games after I was reaped. From all the games I've watched which have been inside a building, ninety percent of the time it has been safe," she explained.

Rye frowned. "And the other ten percent?"

"It ranges from death to paralysis," she answered bluntly.

"Great," Rye muttered, staring at the banana in his head.

"The odds are in our favor," she answered.

_The odds are never in our favor_, Rye thought, not daring to say that aloud. He peeled the banana and took a bite. He had only had the fruit a few times, mostly at Peeta's house, but this banana didn't taste any different.

"I think you're right," he answered, hoping they didn't die in there sleep.

He passed her two of the apples and two bananas, taking the rest himself.

"What do you think that is?" She asked, halfway through her apple.

"The tapestry?" Rye clarified.

"Tapestry? What's that?" She asked.

Rye cursed himself. It made sense she might not know what they were. Rye had the luck of being related to Peeta, and getting books from him from the Capitol. She was related to a Victor as well, but that didn't mean she actually went out of her way to read. What exactly did people in District 3 do for fun?

As Rye started to explain, he wondered if there was a chance they'd be able to find some water.

**Wren Hyde**

**District 10 Male Tribute**

"What's life like in District 10?" Sequoya asked, heaving the knife over her right shoulder.

Wren had followed Sequoya into the palace, though the large marble room, up a crystal staircase and into the endless maze-like hallways. They had been easily walking for over an hour or two, and this was the first time she spoke.

"Why do you want to know?" Wren asked, frowning at the strange question.

Sequoya shrugged. "Something to pass the time."

Wren figured it couldn't hurt. If anything, the Gamemaker's wouldn't broadcast the conversation. "The district is pretty scattered. We have seven settlements, each built around a ranch or bio-slap."

"Why would Ten have bio-labs?"

Wren shrugged. "They do work with embryo's, I think. I've never actually been to one of the labs. Settlement Sigma services two horse ranches."

"Sigma? There are more than one settlement?"

Wren nodded. "Alpha, Beta, Gamma, Delta, Zeta, Iota, Xi, Sigma, and Tau. Each settlement works on different parts of the industry."

"So what do you do at a horse ranch?" Sequoya asked.

"We breed horses. Raise them. We sell them off to wealthy Capitol citizens. Sometimes we get special orders from the districts. The horse bread for the Hunger Games comes from the ranch I work at," Wren told her. He loved the ranch. It was his favorite place in all of District 10. He had been to each settlement, but as far as he was concerned, nothing beats laying down in the grass fields. Watching the majestic animals while he drew? It was the closest thing he could get to peace in Panem. He had gone so far as to work out a deal with one of the ranch hands for him to take all the old, unimportant papers.

"Special orders from the districts?"

Wren shook his head. "I don't know too much about those orders. I might help with the paperwork, but the older ranchers keep the information close to their chests. As far as I can figure, some people in the districts can afford horses."

"Probably a mayor," Sequoya muttered. "Seven's mayor makes more money than anyone else in the district. Who isn't a Victor."

Wren nodded. "So what's Seven like?"

Sequoya shrugged. "We're pretty spread out as well, though not quite as much as you are. There are five towns, with Redwood being the central authority in the district. Work crews get transported out into the forest, and where cut down trees."

"How do you turn trees into paper?" Wren asked.

"They're taken to a treatment plant. Then they'll go to one of the paper factories," Sequoya answered. "Tell me more about the ranch you work at."

"What else do you want to know?" Wren asked.

**Maisie Rosale**

**District 9 Female Tribute**

She never liked watching the games at home. She never could stop herself from crying when a tribute died on screen. Maisie thought watching the games was hell. But having lived through the bloodbath? Seeing it in person, even from a distance as she run? That was much worse than watching it on a holoscreen.

Seeing the blood and death in person had shaken her to her core. If it came down to it, she didn't know if she would be able to kill another tribute. None of them had done anything to her. She had no conflict with any of them. Would she defend herself? Yes. She wouldn't let someone else kill her. Would she kill them? She'd like to think she wouldn't. A fee Victor's won not with violence, but by running and hiding. Though no Victor in seventy four years have won without killing, at least one person.

"Do you smell that?" Wallace asked. She was about to ask him what he meant when the smell of food hit her. She looked at him and Romeo for a moment before the two sprinted down the side hallway. It came to a dead-end, with two doors on either side of the wall.

Maisie followed the smell to the door on the right and threw it open. A grin split her face. The room was about as large as the kitchen in her house back in Victor's Village. A single round table was positioned right in the middle. Littered on the table was a plate full of garlic and mushrooms roasted chicken, mashed potatoes, and a bowl of a thick stew. Smaller plates and cups were placed around the edges of the table. Two large pitches of orange juice were placed right by the plate of chicken. As Maisie got closer, she could see ice floating in the juice.

Romeo followed her in, while Wallace opened the door on the opposite wall.

"You don't think they'd throw out a feast like this to poison it, do you?" Romeo asked, staring longingly at the chicken. Maisie, who had been about to pull up a plate, paused. In the Hunger Games, things were rarely as easy as this. Could the Gamemaker's have put out this feast to lurk in some unsuspecting tribute? She wouldn't put it past them, but she didn't see a reason why they would put out a poisoned feast this early. It was only the first day. The bloodbath would have satisfied the blood thirty views, for at least today. Did they want to reduce the tributes so quickly?

"The other room is a bedroom. I think we should camp out there," Wallace said, walking back into the room. He moved past her and Romeo, right up to the table. Without any hesitation, Wallace ripped a leg one of the chicken legs right off, taking a bite. Without giving it any thought, he pulled a cup closer to him and poured the orange juice into it.

Wallace looked back at them, swallowing his food. "What? I'm hungry."

Maisie laughed. It seemed like such a Wallace thing to do.

"You know, I'm hungry too," Romeo said aloud. "What do you say we grab a plate, Maisie?"

"I say let's get to it," she agreed.

**Nelly Conway**

**District 12 Female Tribute**

The forest was creepy enough when the sun was all the way in the sky. It was worse as the light started to creep away. The trees appeared at odd angles, twisting branches connected to each other. It looked nothing like the woods beyond the fence back in Twelve.

Her companion wasn't much help. Until they ran from the Cornucopia, she had never spoken to the Kia. Her skin was yellowing and started to sag off her bodies. Her wide eyes stared dead ahead, and a few hours into walking she started to shake. Nelly had allied with the girl because she didn't want to be alone here. She knew something was in this forest; it was the Hunger Games. But the more time that passed, the more she started to see the girl as dead weight.

Nelly thought about abandoning her, but she didn't want to be alone in the forest.

She discovered that the forest was full of small caves built into the ground. They had to watch their steps to avoid accidentally falling into the stone caves, which became harder and harder as it became darker. Nelly's stomach growled, but she did her best to ignore it. She had grown up in the Seam, where hunger was ever-present. She should be used to it, but after spending a week in the Capitol... It was hard.

The horror of the forest revealed itself after nightfall. The sun had completely gone down, the stars blazing white against the dark sky. Soon enough the anthem would play and she'd be able to see who had died when suddenly a bat fluttered down from a nearby tree. She had seen bats around her home enough to be familiar with the small animals, but she was surprised when it landed on her shoulder. Nelly had just started to reach out and touch it when the bat opened its mouth, revealing two long fangs. It sank its fangs into her throat, pain shooting through her body. Yelling, she grabbed the mutt (what else could it be?) and ripped it off her body. Its red eyes remained on her as she threw it.

Kia looked back at her, and a sweet smile crossed her lips. "That's a lovely sad of red," she said, pointing at the blood flowing from her neck. Nelly was just about to tell her if she liked the color so much, she should look for the bat when movement caught her attention. Nelly slowly looked up and spotted the more bats. Lining all of the trees around them. The mutts red eyes bore into them, and Nelly felt a rush of energy burst through her.

She didn't have time to warn Kia before the bats swarmed, biting every inch of flesh they would find. Her screams were drowned out by the sound of the bat's wings. All the girl could see was the small black bodies. Kia had completely disappeared.

When Nelly tripped into the cave, she thought she was a goner. No matter how many bats she hit, more took their place. They followed her as she ran. Strangely the mutts didn't follow her into the cave. They perched at its threat hold, the red eyes glaring inside.

Nelly didn't know why the bats stopped, but she was thankful. She could barely see her body in the pale moonlight, but she didn't miss her body full of bleeding bite marks. She huddled up against the back of the cave, wrapping her arms around her legs.

When the anthem finally blared, the bats scattered, allowing her to see the sky. The boy from Five was shown first, followed by the girl. Nelly whimpered when Kia's face appeared in the sky, her large eyes staring down at them. The boy from Seven replaced her, followed by both from Eight, the girl from Ten, and both from Eleven. The seal of Panem replaced the faces, and the anthem ended.

**Rowan Holstein**

**Victor of the Sixtieth Hunger Games**

He leaned back in his chair, staring at the main broadcast playing out before him. District 10 had one tribute alive and well, which was more than he could ask for. He had mentored the boy with the crippled foot last year and was surprised by how far he made it. In the Seventy-Third games, they had lost both tributes on the first day.

Rowan looked over at Baron, watching the boy he had pulled out of the arena. Baron didn't take his eyes off his brother's screen, and Rowan knew he wasn't about to. His brother was fighting for his life, and Rowan doubted he would be able to drag his boy away from his screen for anything short of eating or sleeping.

He sighed, standing up. On the screen, the two tributes from District 4 were running back to the courtyard, being chased by a swarm of vampire bats. It was unfortunate for them that the gate had closed once night had fallen. According to the Gamemakers, it wasn't going to be opened until daybreak. If those two wanted to escape the bats, they'd better find themselves a cave to hold up in.

"I'm going to go see Johanna," Rowan said. Baron nodded without looking up. The fiery girl from Seven couldn't be doing too well right now. The very last member of her family had just been killed by her best Finnick Odair younger brother. The same member had only been spared death because he lived on the other side of Seven. That distance didn't save him from being reaped.

Finnick and Johanna were close, and Rowan could only imagine what Neptune killing Ash could have done to that friendship. Though knowing Johanna, he doubted she would let the Hunger Games ruin her friendship with the playboy of Panem. That would let the Capitol win.

As he closed the door behind him, Rowan knew he would have to call his cousin. He wasn't close to her, but her daughter had died on his watch. She deserved to hear it from him.

**Author's Note:**

**I hope you have enjoyed the eleventh chapter!**

**We have our first death after that bloodbath. Kia was submitted as a bloodbath tribute, but I had enough none claimed spots. So I killed her later in the later. We actually have two more spared bloodbathers that will be dying soon, so keep an eye out. I know everyone reads these things for the deaths ;)**

**For the crystal bowls of fruit, picture the bowel full of Nightlock in the Hunger Games movie.**


	12. Chapter 12: Arena Day 2

**Disclaimer:**

**I do not own the Hunger Games book series. It is the property of Suzanne Collins and the publisher Scholastic Press. The movies are owned by Lionsgate and other associated producers and creators. I am simply a humble fan, writing this for the enjoyment of other fans. Please support the official release.**

_Arena - Day 2_

**Margaret Cresta**

**District 4 Female Tribute**

She was woken when the light of the sun hit her eyes. Last night when the bats attacked, Neptune and Margaret had hunkered down in a cave, the only place that they bats wouldn't follow. Her district partner had fallen into the cave. He might have hurt his left arm, but in the end, his little accident had probably saved their lives.

Blinking, Margaret shielded her eyes with her hands, sitting up. As her eyes adjusted, she looked back at Neptune. He was sleeping further back in the cave.

"Neptune," she called. The boy's eyes opened a moment later, narrowing on her.

"Margaret," he mumbled, rubbing his eyes. "The bats?"

She looked back at the mouth of the cave. "They're gone. How's the arm?"

She turned back in time to see him move his arm, rotating it. "A lot better. Still a little sore, but I'll live. I'm more worried about the bite marks," he answered.

Now in the light of day, Margaret looked down at her body. Every inch of skin that hadn't been covered by the arena uniform was full of bite marks. Angry red marks and slowly healing wounds. He was right to be worried. If their wounds got infected, there was a good chance they'd die. Medicine in the arena was astronomically expensive, and they only had food and weapons back at the Cornucopia.

"Nothing we can do about it now," Margaret muttered, standing up. "Come on. Let's get outside. Maybe the gate to the palace courtyard is back open."

Neptune mumbled his agreement as she climbed out. Standing just a few feet away from her was the girl from District 5. The same girl that she had murdered the day before. Releasing a scream, Margaret looked down at her belt, grabbing the short sword. When she looked back up, the girl was gone.

_Did I imagine that_? Margaret thought. The girl from Five had only been a few feet away, staring right at her. _That can't be. She was dead. I killed her._

Murdering the girl hadn't given her any pleasure. It had made her sick to her stomach when she did. That girl hadn't done anything to her, and Margaret cut her down in cold blood. She couldn't be alive. Was her mind playing tricks on her? Maybe she deserved it for what she did. She killed an innocent girl... She just wanted to go home.

Neptune came storming out of the cave, his gold trident raised. His eyes scanned the area around them. "What happened?" He demanded, his eyes flickering towards her for only a moment.

"I thought I saw the girl from Five," she muttered, lowering her sword.

Neptune gave her a sideways glance. "We killed her in the bloodbath. I saw her face in the sky last night."

Margaret nodded, but she couldn't bring herself to say that she had been the one who killed Five. If she said it, it would become more real.

"Are you okay?" Neptune asked. Before she could answer, Margaret caught sight of a glint in the sky. Looking up, she saw a parachute coming down towards them.

Neptune seemed to forget about the conversation, a grin spreading across his lips. "Perfect."

Margaret reached her hand out, grabbing the round container. She unscrewed the lit, revealing a pink cream.

"What is it?" Neptune asked.

"It looks like some kind of cream," she said. Reaching two of her fingers in, Margaret pulled out a scoop. It smelled like peaches, but it wasn't fruit. Closer to the disinfectant that was used in the Troubled Youth Center when one of the students got injured. She rubbed the cream onto one of the cuts on her arm, and the prickling pain faded immediately. "It's medicine," she told him.

Neptune joined her and the two of them started coating their wounds in the cream. By the time they had finished, the whole container was empty, but she didn't care. The annoying prickle of pain in the back of her head was gone. The medicine probably meant that their wounds were probably not going to get infected.

She was just about to suggest going back to the courtyard when she heard the sound of a branch snapping. It had come from just behind a large bush. She grabbed her sword but Neptune was faster; his trident pierced through the bush and a girl screamed. The two sprinted forward through the bush. The girl from Twelve was on the ground, Neptune's trident through her stomach. Blood was starting to pool around her.

"Mommy! Daddy!" The girl yelled through her tears. "Please! It hurts."

It was the girl Gleam had bullied just a few days ago. She had cried then, but now she had a trident through her stomach. On the ground, surrounded by blood, she looked so small. There was no coming back from that wound. Not here in the arena. She'd need a literal fortune to get the medicine here, and even then it probably wouldn't save her. The kind of wound would need a team of doctors to fix. In a single moment, Neptune had effectively killed her.

_Nelly_, Margaret remembered. _That's her name._

Nelly tried to curl up in a ball, crying for her parents, her siblings, her boyfriend. Someone to come and save her. Margaret couldn't move, staring down at Nelly in silent horror.

Neptune walked by her, leaning down beside Twelve. Margaret was close enough to hear the whispered "I'm sorry" before Neptune grabbed her head. In one move, he broke her neck.

A cannon fired.

**Katniss Everdeen**

**Co-Victor of the Seventy-Fourth Hunger Games**

She stared down at her terminal, keeping her eyes off the live broadcast against the wall of the room. Peeta had mercifully muted it. She had wanted to mute Nelly's feed, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. Katniss was her mentor, and if she had laid dying last year, she didn't think Haymitch would have turned away.

Katniss didn't know she was crying until her tears hit the screen. The boy from Four was walking towards Nelly, and Katniss didn't know if she would be able to stop herself from losing it if he decided to put on a show. Nelly's vitals were already going haywire, but there was nothing she could do. Nelly had less than a thousand denarii to her account, and that wouldn't by much. Even if she could, Nelly was too close to the Careers for whatever Katniss sent to be helpful.

Thankfully the boy from Four broke her neck. It was quick and clean. Her vitals flare for one last moment before she flat-lined. Her vitals disappeared as the screen turned back. Her access to the games store and Nelly's personal feed was cut.

Three white words appeared on the black screen:

_Twelve Female Eliminated_

Was that all of Nelly's life accumulated in? Three simple words? Katniss was glad the rooms were soundproof because she was crying before she knew it. Peeta's warm arms gently pulled her into a hug. She didn't know how long she sat at her terminal crying, but Peeta didn't complain. She saw him watching his brother intently, but he never took his arms off her.

Before the reaping, Katniss had never spoken to Nelly. She was two years below her in school, but she had seen Nelly a few times in the Seam. It had never occurred to her that the girl could be related to Haymitch.

Katniss had only spent one week with Nelly before the games. Enough to try and coach her through as much as she could. It was hardly any sufficient amount of time to get to know her, but in that small week, Nelly had managed to worm her heart. And now she was dead.

The door opened however long she cried, and Haymitch walked inside. "Katniss. Come on girl. Let's get out of here," he called.

"Where are we going?" She managed to get out.

"I have a small house I keep on hand for the games each year. Three rooms. Come on, you don't want to stay here," he whispered gently.

"What about Peeta?" She asked.

"I'll stay here and help him," he promised. "I'll be back soon."

"Okay," Peeta replied. "Go and get some sleep Katniss."

As Katniss left, she pulled out the small drive and handed it to Peeta. It contained all of Nelly's meager amount of money.

She allowed Haymitch to take her out of the room. Now that she was gone it was probably going to be closed. Peeta had been camped out with Aero and Mercedes from Six since the game had started. She had been with them until Kia had died, at which point she fled to an empty room.

She vaguely remembered him getting a car and the two of them driving into the city. It was the same car they had come in, with Twelve's seal emblazoned on the front. She remembered people cheering and waving as they passed.

It was at the edge of the Capitol when they finally stopped. A small house (better than any in Twelve, outside of Victor's Village, and the official's houses) was surrounded by a white fence. The grass in front of it was a rich green color.

Haymitch jammed his thumb against a scanner on the door, and it clicked open. The inside was cleaner than any place had a right to be if he lived there. He lead her to one of the rooms and even went so far as to help her to bed. Fully clothed, of course.

He left and came back with a yellow pill and a glass of water. "I'm sorry about Nelly. This will help you sleep."

**Helene Dulac**

**District 1 Female Tribute**

It was just her luck getting stuck with Gleam and Cassandra to go hunting. It had been even worse luck to get stuck in the palace when the sun went down. Despite what uncle Augustus said, she wanted to split from the Career back as soon as possible. Given the winding maze of corridors, Helene considered making a break for it, but Gleam had brought a spear with him. After Ryker and Finnick, he was easily the one with the best aim, and he had proven he could hit a moving target.

Still, her uncle's argument was persuasive, and it might just be a better idea to bite the bullet and stay with the pack until they were down to ten tributes.

"Think the door is open?" She asked her allies.

Cassandra shrugged. "Might as well go check. Better than getting lost in here."

"Speaking of getting lost, are you sure this is the way back?" She asked Gleam. Her district partner nodded.

"I remember coming this way," he said. All the hallways blended together as they drove deeper and deeper into the palace, so she wasn't sure how he remembered the way.

He was right, regardless. They found their way back to the large room full of golden doors and crystal staircases. Unlike last night, the large doors were open. The Courtyard sat outside in the sunlight.

Ryker got up when they came out and had a spear ready to fly. He slowly lowered it when he saw them.

"How was the night?" Gleam asked. His scythe was on his shoulder.

Ryker shrugged. "Cold," he said.

It hadn't been that cold in the palace, luckily enough. They had even found a room with beds and blankets. She doubted any Victors had a comfortable time in the arena as they had. A small feast had been laid out for them to take!

"Neptune and Margaret?" Cassandra asked.

Ryker pointed to the gate leading out to the forest. "It closed before they came back," he said.

"So the gate leading to the forest and the doors to the palace both close at night," Gleam surmised. "If we don't want to get stuck inside, we had better be out before nightfall. Anything exciting happen while we were away? I heard a cannon today."

"It wasn't me if that's what you're asking," Ryker told them. "I haven't seen anyone since yesterday. I did see the bats."

"The bats?" She asked curiously.

Ryker turned to look at her and nodded. "After it got dark, bats started flying through the forest. I could hear them over the walls. Caught a glimpse of one in the moonlight."

"Weird, but we can talk about that later," Gleam said. "Let's eat."

Helene couldn't disagree. They hadn't eaten anything other than the small meal they found.

The Four's joined them a few minutes later, sporting a strange completion. Neptune's trident was dripping with blood, which prompted Gleam to ask what had happened.

The two explained about the girl from Twelve and the blood-sucking bats of the night before. It was agreed they'd avoid the forest now that Twelve and Six were dead. Gleam swore they were the only two that ran that way, which meant that they could afford not to search the forest. At least for the time being. Which Helene was completely fine with. Trying to use a whip in a forest was a bitch that she'd rather avoid.

"Margaret, Helene, Ryker, Cassandra. We're going hunting," Gleam said, finishing his package of dried jerky. "Odair, can I count on you to guard the fort while I'm gone?"

Neptune smiled. "You bet."

Helene cursed inwardly. Once she was given the guard job, she could make her move.

**Rance Walker**

**District 3 Female Tribute**

"There's not very much _hunger _in this year's Hunger Games," Rye commented, grabbing two full water bottles from a pedestal as he passed. "Why do you think that is?"

Rance was wondering the same thing. In normal years, hunger had been a big theme of the games, but in this palace, it seemed the food was widely available here. "They must want us fed. If they want us fed, it's so we're not weak. Better for some kind of spectacle."

That was the only thing she could of.

"Another door," Rye said, stopping in his tracks. They were walking down a long corridor. Another small branch hallway lead a little way down, with a single door at the end. "What do you think?"

Rye offered her one of the bottles and she gratefully took it. She was parched. Downing a quarter of the bottle she made her choice. "Let's go check it out."

She hadn't had any food since that morning and she was a little hungry. If she was lucky, there would be food.

There wasn't any food. Instead, the room was an armory. Two small tables took up most of the space. The left table was full of knives, two short swords, and a helmet. Rye's eyes lit up when he saw the table and made a beeline for it.

Rance's eyes were drawn to the right table. No weapons of death could be found. Instead, it was full of junk, metal, and wires. This was what she needed. This was how she could survive.

Rye finished arming himself when he asked her if she was ready to leave.

"Leave?" She repeated, only half paying attention to him. "No. Not yet. I can't leave."

"Are you alright, Rance?" He asked.

"Alright? I'm better than I've been since I was reaped," Rance promised, unable to hide her grin any longer.

She began to pour over everything on the table, taking note of what she had to work with. All things considered, it wasn't much, but it was more than she had the day before.

"What are you going to do with all this?" Rye asked.

She didn't miss the note of concern in his voice.

"Have you ever watched the Seventh Hunger Games? Or the Thirty-Fourth? Or the Fifty-Second?" She inquired, grabbing one of the compressors off the table. It was old, certainly, but it looked usable.

"No. It was before my time. I don't think I've ever seen any reruns during mandatory viewing either," Rye explained. During the months the games or the Victory Tour wasn't going on, mandatory viewing was still enforced. Usually, it was older games that were broadcast.

"Well, how about the Sixty-Sixth?" She tried instead.

Rye was quiet for a moment. "That was the year Siren Shiba won, wasn't it?"

Rance nodded absentmindedly. "Yes, it was. In Seventy-Five years, Three has only won the crown four times. Siren was our latest Victor. Do you remember anything of her games?"

"I remember it was an upset. She killed both tributes from Two in the final battle," Rye said.

Rance nodded. "Her arena was an old Capitol junkyard. She used what she had to make and made a makeshift weapon. I'm going to do the same thing."

**Sequoya**

**District 7 Female Tribute**

"Are they out there?" Wren asked from behind her.

"Shh!" She snapped back. Sequoya quickly poked her head out the large door, out into the Courtyard. It had taken them a whole day to find their way back to the entrance of the palace but it was worth it. She was willing to bet money that almost all of the remaining tributes were somewhere in the palace, with the possible exception of the Careers. Most years they set up camp at the Cornucopia.

Other than them, the palace was probably the better bet. Rooms full of beds, making it a warm place to sleep. Rooms full of food, and water. Or even just fruit in the hallway. Hell, they even stumbled into a small armory. Which was how she decked herself out with two throwing axes, and a large one to fight with. She had made Wren take the knives.

The palace was the best place to stay. Food, warmth, and weapons. Why would someone go to the forest, which probably had none of those things? Which meant that it might also be the safest area from the Careers.

Sequoya saw the boy from Four standing against one of the walls surrounding the courtyard. A trident in his hand, but from his position by the wall and the sound, the boy was taking a piss.

Sequoya turned back to Wren. "Be very quiet and follow me," she whispered. Without waiting to hear his answer, she quietly but quickly moved across the courtyard. She hoped Wren was behind her.

Before Four finished taking care of business, she had gone through the gate and was out in the forest. She paused long enough to confirm that Wren was following, before moving further into the forest. It seemed to be about dusk, and the sun was lowering.

"Sequoya," Wren called from behind her, after an hour of walking silently. She stopped and turned around. He stood at the mouth of what appeared to be an opening in the Earth. One that she had completely missed.

She followed him inside, and they found themselves in a stone cave. Looking around, she nodded. It was a good place to hide. She was sure the Careers would be focusing on the palace, but even if they had someone roaming the forest, the night would hide the cave.

"So, are we buckling down here for the night?" Wren asked her.

Sequoya grinned. "It seems as good of a place as any."

**Boggs Wilson**

**Commander of President Coins Security Detail**

District 12 was dark. Mandatory viewing had ended hours ago, and most of the district was asleep. The Hovercraft's sensors scanned the fence, revealing that no electricity was running through it. No camera's or any other active equipment could be found. With the craft cloaked, they descended outside of Twelve's border fence.

The ramp lowered and Jackson followed him out. They were right outside the Seam. Further, into the impoverished village, a single house had a light in it. The candlelight was the signal.

Boggs reached his hand up to his ear, clicking on the comm. "This is Commander Boggs. The area is clear and secure," he relayed.

A flash of static. "Understood commander. Artificial bodies and ramps are being unloaded now," the voice of the hovercraft pilot answered.

The ramps came first. In reality, they were tall ladders, able to fit over the top of the fence. The doctors came next, wheeling out ten bodies, each one an exact size and match for Ruth Everdeen, Primrose Everdeen, Hazelle Hawthorne, Rory Hawthorne, Vick Hawthorne, Posy Hawthorne, Collis Mellark, Charity Mellark, Broa Mellark, and his wife.

Boggs was the first one over the ramp. His second, Jackson, followed right behind him. The two crept silently through the Seam, hands on their firearms just in case.

When they reached the house with the candlelight, he knocked on the door. Once, twice, and final time. It cracked open a moment later, and he came face to face with Ruth Everdeen. She nodded at him and opened the door all the way.

"Is everyone here?" Boggs whispered.

She shook her head. "Collis doesn't want to leave Peeta all alone. He's staying behind."

Boggs nodded. He hoped President Coin didn't mind one less than she was promised, but if the old baker wanted to stay, who was he to say no?

Nine of them exited the small building. He noticed a cat the arms of the youngest Everdeen daughter, and he wondered how the authorities back home would take it. Then again, it was a small price to pay for more able bodies who could breed. Who weren't infected by the plague.

Jackson took the lead this time and Boggs brought up the rear. The youngest girl was safely tucked in her mother's arms, the only one of the group not walking.

When they made it to the fence, all of the artificial bodies were inside the district. Boggs instructed the group to climb over the ramp. Two of his men were waiting on the other side. Once all of them were down, the small group was escorted into the hovercraft.

"Get the baker's body back over the fence. He's not coming," he ordered two of the doctors.

Boggs and Jackson guarded the doctors as they carried the rest bodies through the Seam. Once they reached the house, they dumped each body on the floor or a wall. Boggs pulled out a small firebomb, setting it on the table. Once it activated, it would destroy itself, leaving no evidence that it had been the cause of the fire.

"Will this work?" Jackson asked the doctors as everything was set. Boggs closed the door behind them.

"Yes," the lead doctor answered as the group made its way back to the fence. "The bodies are the exact height and weight. They'll be burned beyond recognition. Only dental records will be able to identify them, which we have made sure match each exactly."

Making it back to the fence in silence, they climbed over the ramp. A technician came up once all of them were out, pressing a button on the side. The ramp came back over and folded up into a beam. Two techs grabbed it and brought it back into the hovercraft. Boggs was the last one aboard, making sure the doctors and his second were on. The ramp of the hovercraft closed and they lifted silently into the air.

Once they were floating above Twelve, Boggs walked over to one of the screens in the hold, turning it on. He had an aerial view of Twelve. Grabbing the detonator from his belt, he pressed the switch one time, watching as the Everdeen house went up in flames. He watched as other people from the Seam came out to see what was happenig, the panic beginning to take hold.

"Get us out of her," Boggs order through his comm.

"Yes sir," the pilot replied.

The Peacekeepers would soon arrive to help put out the fire. Gale Hawthorne was staying with a friend at the mine and would tell the Peacekeepers his family was secretly meeting with the Everdeen's and the Mellark's. To help plan wedding gifts.

**Author's Note:**

**Hello! I hope you have enjoyed the twelfth chapter!**

**By the time you are reading this, I've curently started work on Chapter 20. The last chapter in the arena. I can't say I'm super happy about how I'm wrapping this up if I'm honest. So much of my progress was lost when all my arena chapters were deleted. I'm a little afraid that the ending to this newer version will be a let down. Nowhere near how I envisioned it originally, before all those chapters were lost. Just some apologizes in advance for when the end comes, and it maybe not living up to your expectation.**


	13. Chapter 13: Arena Day 3

**Disclaimer:**

**I do not own the Hunger Games book series. It is the property of Suzanne Collins and the publisher Scholastic Press. The movies are owned by Lionsgate and other associated producers and creators. I am simply a humble fan, writing this for the enjoyment of other fans. Please support the official release.**

_Arena - Day 3_

**Temperance Hale**

**Capitol Citizen**

Temperance could only marvel at the set of events that lead her to spend time inside one of the oldest clubs in the Capitol.

The idea that she would inherit not only the best citizenship in the county but a huge fortune? Influence and connections? It was crazy. What were the odds that she would look like the only daughter of some rich old man? Whatever the odds that he would use his wealth and connections to bring her to the Capitol to become his heir? Maybe the odds really were in her favor.

When she had come down to eat, the biggest feast she had ever set her eyes on lay on the table. Honorius smiled and told her to have as much as she wanted.

After a large breakfast of eggs, bacon, and toast, Honorius had given her ten thousand denarii to spent. Her mouth almost dropped at the sum. That was one month of her aunts Victor's stipend, and he was giving it away so casually? When she asked why, Honorius told her he was going to be in a social event with the President all day, and he didn't want her to be bored alone. She could spend a whole day exploring his house, trying on all the finest clothes he had bought her, relaxing in the absolute lap of luxury. and he thought she might be bored?

In the end she decided not to lounge around the manor, instead wanting to see the city she had only seen on the holoscreen for her whole life.

Flanked by paid servants, Temperance tried to navigate her way through the crowds. She felt out of place, lacking any crazy hairstyle or painted body parts. She had grown up seeing the people of the Capitol as freaks, and she wasn't about to see get any augmentation. Maybe some tattoos to help her fit in.

Hours in and Temperance had left, ditching the attendants Honorius slatted her with. Her account is full of all the denarii her _uncle _had given her. In the Capitol, citizen I.D.'s and bank accounts were connected to a thumbprint and a DNA sample, which meant that she didn't have to carry any coins. It had been easy enough to get lost in the crowd, but now the problem was that she was lost. She was about to give up and see if she could call Honorius for help when she spotted a familiar face. Her aunt Mercedes was speaking to a small crowd of people, doing her best to sell Romeo to the crowd. She seemed to have a few who appeared interested, but most of them moved on. Temperance watched as she got thumbprints, no doubt transferring denarii.

She approached once the crowd was gone, suddenly having a good idea where she was going to spend all the denarii Honorius had given her.

"Aunt Mercedes?" She called. Her aunt had a look of disbelief on her upon seeing her.

"Temperance? How are you here?" She managed to get out.

Temperance smiled. She was still a bit overwhelmed herself. "It's a long story, and I'm also hungry. I can tell you everything over a meal. I want to sponsor Romeo while I'm at it."

**Maisie Rosale**

**District 9 Female Tribute**

If it had been any other time, she would have left the armory alone. She didn't care for knives or other weapons normally, but this was the hunger games. They needed weapons to defend themselves. Which was how she found herself suited with four knives tied to her belt. Wallace had two sickles, one in his hand, and one on his belt. The same kind that he's used in the fields since he started working. Romeo was fitted with small shield and a spear, both of which he had never touched before today. If he used the shield to protect his body, he could jab tributes with the sharp end of his spear.

"So you lived in Victor's Village?" Romeo asked her.

Maisie nodded. "With my mom. It's nice. There's even a playground for children," she told him. It wasn't out of the ordinary to see a few of Aaron's brothers around it or some of Silas' kids. She had grown up on that playground. It was the only one of its kind in all of Nine.

"Did you live in the village, Wallace?" Romeo asked.

Her quiet district partner shook his head. "My grandma was Nine's first Victor. She died before I was born. My mom was her daughter, and she had a falling out with grandma," was all he said.

"Did you live in Six's Victor's Village?" Maisie asked, falling in step behind the boy from Six.

Romeo shook his head. "No. My mom doesn't have the best relationship with my grandfather. I don't think they're on bad terms, but distant would be a better way to say it. He did buy my parents a house in Upper though."

"Upper?" She asked. The upper side of the district?

"Lower and Upper are two different parts of District 6, separated by a river. If you live in Six, you want to live in Upper," Romeo explained.

"Is Lower a slum?" Wallace asked.

"That's a good way to put it," Romeo nodded. "It's where all the factories are. The housing blocks, most of the schools. It's riddled with gang violence and drugs. The Peacekeepers actually help keep the peace... When they're not bought off by the gangs. That's where I go to school."

Maisie tried to imagine that kind of place. District 9 was by no means a nice place to live for majority of the population. The hours in the field were long, and her people were forced to work under the burning sun, or in freezing winds. During the harvest seasons, the workload was doubled, hours increased, and the pay remained the same if they were lucky. Children were often employed after school, and it wasn't uncommon for them to be injured. If someone tried to steal, the harsh Peacekeepers would whip or beat you. If it kept up, the thief would be shot. On the other hand, the place Romeo described sounded terrible.

Was Lower a worse place to live? She imagined the wages in the factors weren't much better than the fields. Being confined to an area with drugs and gangs, full of violence?

They came to the end of the hallway, turning right into the connecting corridor. A door was one the right side of the wall halfway down the corridor.

"Why would you go to school there? Was there a school in Upper?" Wallace inquired.

"Upper has one school. The best you could get in the district. That's where the officials and Victor's children usually ended up. I probably would have gone there if my Grandfather hadn't convinced my parents. He thought it would be better to see how the less well off lived," Romeo answered. A smile slowly crept its way onto his face. "That's where I learned to apply myself. The first school I went too didn't care to teach the students. It was in one of the worst parts of Lower, and I think the teachers just gave up. Half the students were on drugs. Nothing I did at that school mattered, and as long as I showed up the staff didn't care. I wanted to spite them, so I started visiting my grandfather's house more to read. I taught myself a lot before my parents finally let me change schools."

That was also hard for her to imagine. The school in Nine she attended took itself seriously. The teachers did their best to make sure the students learned, which was probably why she wasn't very popular with them. Sitting down in a desk and studying bored her to tears, and she never could stop fidgeting.

"Quiet!" Wallace suddenly hissed. He stopped moving, holding his hands out to stop them.

At first, she didn't know what he meant, but a moment later she could hear something. It was a little ways off, but it was getting closer. The sound of footsteps coming towards them.

From her side, Romeo frowned. "Do you think it's another tribute-"

"HELP!" A voice screamed, coming from the direction of the footsteps.

"In the door, now!" Wallace ordered. He threw the door open, holding it for her and Romeo. She didn't need to be told twice, running through the doorway. She heard someone come in behind her, followed by another before the door was slammed shut. The screaming voice covered the sound.

**Ryker Bedford**

**District 2 Male Tribute**

The boy from Three was faster than he would have liked. The hallways made throwing a spear annoying, especially when he ducked into another one, leaving Ryker to dig out his spear out of the wall as quickly as he could.

It was starting to look like the boy from Three might have been able to get away, he collided with a stone pedestal, falling to the ground. Before the boy could get up, the five of them caught up to him. They quickly surrounded him, leaving no way out.

"End of the line, Three," Cassandra hissed, drawing her katana from its sheath.

"Lead us on quite the chase here," Gleam said, a grin spreading across his face.

"I say we make a show out of him!" Helene grinned, drawing the whip from her belt. It was tipped with glass.

"Let's just kill him," Margaret replied. "We still have ground to cover. If we make it a show, it might take a while."

Three's eyes flashed around them quickly, a wild look appearing on his face. He quickly shot up, running towards the spot between Ryker and Helene. If he was hoping to rush through, it was bad luck for him. Ryker raised his spear and thrust it through Three's leg when he got close. The boy let out a howl of agony, dropping to the ground.

Ryker stepped on Three's leg, ripping his spear out. Another yell escaped his mouth.

"Help!" Three yelled, staring up at him in terror. "Please, someone! Help-"

Before his allies could say anything, Ryker brought his spear down into the boy's throat.

"You're no fun, Ryker," Helene pouted. Her hand found her hip.

Ryker shrugged. "He was trying to run," he said in his defense.

"How long do you think it will take for him to die?" Margaret asked. Three was gurgling in his blood.

"Not long," Cassandra said. She looked at him. "He's Ryker's kill. He should be the one to finish him off."

Gleam nodded. "Sounds fair. Finish him off quickly Ryker. No fun playing with damaged goods," he said.

Ryker snorted. He was going to be the one to kill Three, no matter if they all liked it or not. He grabbed the short sword off his belt and brought it down on Three's neck.

**Wren Hyde**

**District 10 Male Tribute**

He rubbed the spot on his arm where the bat had bitten him. He had left the cave for only a minute before the swarm of bat mutts descended on the forest. He had managed to get inside quickly, but not before one bit him. The mutts had swarmed all night, though they never entered the cave.

When the day had finally broke, the bats vanished. The ones who stared at the cave the night left with the rest. Only when he saw no bats as the sun climbed higher and higher did Wren finally took the chance to leave the cave.

"You're not getting eaten alive, are you?" Sequoya called.

"No," he answered. If he was, Wren would have been screaming. Or running back to the cave. Or both. Probably both.

"You're not just keeping quiet, right? So I"ll come out and get eaten alive with you?" She asked petulantly.

Wren snorted. "I promise I'm not being eaten alive by bats."

She poked her head out of the cave. Once she saw that he was indeed fine, she climbed out, resting her axe on her shoulder.

"So I think we should go look for food," Sequoya started. "They wouldn't have put a survival station in if it wasn't going to be important"

Wren nodded. That was one of the reasons she allied with him. Since they didn't have access to the palace anymore, they'd have to get there own food. Neither his brother or Rowan sent them anything last night, and he was hungry.

"I think we should come back to this cave when we're done," Wren said a moment later. "It provides someone to lay low. If those bats come back tonight, I don't want to be caught out in the open by them."

Sequoya nodded at him. "My axes won't help us against a swarm."

"Great. Let's go berry picking," Wren said. It looked like that's what they were going to be living off for the foreseeable future. Unless this forest had animals they could butcher.

Though their more pressing concern would be water. The forest around the palace was there, so a source of water must exist somewhere. If they didn't find it soon, they might die of thirst long before hunger killed them. He cursed his name coming out of the reaping bowl. What he wouldn't give to be back in Ten, watching this on a holoscreen. To be back with the horse's, drawing as the sunset.

"Are you alright?" Sequoya asked.

Wren shot a glare at her. "What do you think?" He ground out bluntly."

The girl from Seven shrugged.

**Cassandra**

**District 2 Female Tribute**

The eyes of the painting seemed to follow them as they walked. It was creepy like they were never truly alone. In a way, that was true. Every move they made was being broadcast to the entire nation.

_Another day and we only have a single kill_, Cassandra thought as she and her allies walked through the doorway. _It's going to be a long Hunger Games if this keeps up._

Neptune stood up from his spot by the Cornucopia when they walked out, but relaxed when he saw who it was. Not a second too late, as the golden doors of the palace closed behind them. The wooden doors leading out to the forest closed as well, sealing them off in the courtyard.

The anthem blared and the face of the boy from Three appeared in the sky. His was the only face that night, the seal of the country soon replacing it.

"Eleven down," Gleam said, taking a seat in front of the Cornucopia.

"Thirteen left to play," Helene agreed, sitting next to him.

Cassandra took her place between Ryker and Margaret. Neptune went into the cornucopia, pulling out two black cases. They opened to reveal an assortment of jerky strips, dried fruit, breed rolls, slices of cheese, large green apples, and six bottles of water.

Cassandra ripped her breed roll in two, putting two pieces of jerky stripes and cheese in between the two sides. She bit into her improvised sandwich, watching her allies with a keen eye. When the alliance broke, Gleam had to be the first one to go. He was the leader of the alliance, and most of the sponsors would probably flock to him unless another favorite was found before then. Margaret and Ryker would join her, she was pretty sure. Helene might or might not join her district partner. Neptune? Well, she never could get a good read on that boy. He was all swagger and winks.

Allying with Ryker and Margaret might be the best chance to get home, but she didn't know if she wanted to get back to Two. Ever since the accident, nearly the whole district had shunned her. Only the Institute didn't judge her for the accident. In a way, being there had been another hell. She was praised for her not being afraid to kill, and her skill in the fight. Cassandra had never set out to kill that night, and seeing the trainers and her fellow cadets never let her forget what she did.

"Cassandra," a voice whispered just behind her ear. A chill shot up her spine and she dropped her half-eaten sandwich. She grabbed her katana, and draw the blade out, slashing behind her. Her blade met nothing but air.

"Cassandra?" Ryker tentatively asked. Cassandra almost didn't hear him over how loud her heart was beating.

Cassandra slowly turned back to the ring of her allies, only vaguely noticing the concerned expressions on their faces. Each one of them had their hands on their weapons. Her attention, however, was drawn past them. A figure was standing behind Gleam, looking straight at her.

The girl from District 8, who she had killed during the open bloodbath, stared right at her. The girl smiled and started to laugh, blood leaking out of her neck.

It was worse when her alliance turned to see what she was looking at and jumping when they laid eyes on the girl.

"Cassandra," the girl said. Right before her head fell off her body.

Cassandra couldn't stop the scream from ripping out of her throat.

**Plutarch Heavensbee**

**Head Gamemaker**

Plutarch watched as the hologram of the dead girl from Eight disappeared before the Career's eyes. Not before causing a ripple of fear to run through their trained killers. It was only the first instance of what the haunted palace had in store, but it would hardly be the last. It already had the desired effect of the first tribute. He was curious to see how the hologram, portrayed as a ghost, would affect the Two girl.

Despite his effort to end the games and overthrow the Capitol, he was still a Head Gamemaker. The haunted palace had been his brainchild, and he was happy to see his innovation at work.

Watching his Careers start to gather a semblance of calm, Plutarch sighed. His innovation was being lent to a game of death, and no matter how much it pleased him to see his work play out.

"Good job," he praised his lessor Gamemaker's, putting on his Head Gamemaker voice. Looking down at the Arena Control Room, the Gamemaker's gave themselves a round of applause. "For now let's let the tributes rest."

Giving his orders, Plutarch turned back towards the Head Gamemaker's office. It was the only place in the whole of the building that wasn't bugged. That was what the President had wanted him to believe at the very least, but his spy network had agents in the President's office, and he knew it was a false lead.

Plutarch had just taken his seat when he heard a knock at his door. Groaning to himself (he never could catch a break), he called out the okay to enter.

One of his junior Gamemakers, Antonia, entered the room. She closed the door behind her and walked right up to his desk, full of confidence. She had only been a Junior Gamemaker for just over a year, and she was already climbing the ladder.

"What can I do for you?" He asked.

Antonia threw a device on the desk, crossing her arms. "It's more of what I can do for you. You are aware that Set wants your job, right?"

Plutarch nodded. After him, Set was the most popular Gamemaker active right now. She had been bitter since she had been passed over for the position, and was trying to do anything in her power to take his spot.

"Look at this, sir," Antonia said, pressing a button on the device. A hologram appeared, showing a corridor that resembled one in the haunted palace. He didn't know why she was showing him this when a trap door in the floor opened. It lead to a small room, and he could see gas being sprayed, as the trap door closed.

Plutarch frowned. While he did have certain areas incorporated with trap doors, none of them lead to a small room. A room that locked with gas in it.

"What is this?" He asked.

"Set had this room constructed," Antonia said, a smirk being pulled on her lips. "She's planning on drawing a few of the more popular tributes to the room and killing them off. Pinning all the blame on you."

Plutarch nodded. That certainly sounded like something his rogue Gamemaker would do. If popular tributes were killed off in such a boring way, and it was successfully pinned on him, it would him in a hard spot. His grasp on the position would become shaky. It could be called incompetent. The people of the Capitol might even go so far as to call for his resignation.

On the other hand, if he managed to blame Set, Plutarch could effectively get rid of one of his greatest rivals. The ever-present throne in his side.

The gears started turning in his head. He could put the blame squarely on Set's shoulder. Replace the gas with knockout gas, and put special commands into the trackers. Make it look like the tribute(s) were dead, while at the same time getting President Coin the living tribute(s) she wanted so much.

"Should I dismantle the trap, sir?" Antonia asked.

Plutarch shook his head. "No. I want all the evidence you have on this. If Set wants to play this game, I'll indulge her."

**Author's Note:**

**Hello! I hope you have enjoyed the thirteenth chapter!**


	14. Chapter 14: Arena Day 4

**Disclaimer:**

**I do not own the Hunger Games book series. It is the property of Suzanne Collins and the publisher Scholastic Press. The movies are owned by Lionsgate and other associated producers and creators. I am simply a humble fan, writing this for the enjoyment of other fans. Please support the official release.**

_Arena - Day 4_

**Gale Hawthorne**

**District 12 Citizen**

He left the Justice Building with a plaque and two hundred denarii for his loss. The plan went off without a hitch, and after a whole day spent with the Peacekeepers, the mayor let him go. As far as Twelve's authorities were concerned, he had just lost his whole family. Even old Cray was quiet, though that probably stemmed from the fact that he might not be getting any wild turkey soon. After all, if Gale Hawthorne was too affected by the deaths of his family, would he be able to hunt?

For his part, Gale had played shell shocked. He didn't cry or scream, instead acting quiet and subdued. They had bought the act, and now he had two months' worth of payments in the mine. Now that his and Katniss' families were both in District 13, protected from starving to death and the government, Gale wouldn't be returning to the mine. He could spend all his days hunting, selling food at the Hob, and giving it away to the miners on their breaks. He was at least on good terms with most of them, and they would provide the backbone of Twelve's resistance when it finally came time to rebel. Until then, it was his job to try and convince as many of them as possible to eventually take up arms against the Capitol. At the same time, he would have to try and get the town on his side as well. Fresh meat would go along way on that venture as well.

For right now he was going to go to the foreman, quit his job, and then go hunting. The woods always helped clear his mind, and it wouldn't be suspicious at all for him to take a trip. It was well known in Twelve he was a hunter.

Mr. Mellark came out behind him. The old baker nodded at him, which he returned. It seemed Peeta's father was as good of an actor as his son. He cried and screamed in the right place. Told the Peacekeepers he was up late baking a special cake for Peeta and Katniss when they came back. He even had a cake as proof.

Gale watched the baker walk away, his eyes still red from crying.

**Sequoya Gardner**

**District 7 Female Tribute**

The river Sequoya found seemed to run through the forest, which was good since it gave them a source of water. Though she had watched enough Hunger Games not to blindly trust a source of water. It was better to boil it. But that would involve starting a fire, and it might draw the Career's attention. Then again they hadn't had anything to drink since the day they fled the palace. She was thirstier than she ever recalled being, and that was dangerous.

"So, do we want to risk it?" Wren asked from her side. Sequoya looked over at him and thought about it. If they got the Career's attention, they'd be hunted. They might even be killed. If they didn't get clean water to drink, they'd definitely die. It was a risk, but it looked like one they'd have to take. Unless Johanna or Blight was going to do her a favor and send her something...

Sequoya looked up at the sky but saw no parachute coming. The only sponsor gift they'd had so far was two empty water bottles, and a pot to boil, along with a metal stand to hold it over a fire. They must not have enough denarii for anything more expensive.

"I think we'll have to take the chance," Sequoya said regretfully. If they were lucky, no one would see the smoke.

"Good. I feel like I'm dying of thirst already," Wren muttered.

"Go fill up the pan," Sequoya ordered, pointing at the river. She gathered the twigs and sticks, assembling them in a small fire. Grabbing two other twigs, she quickly brought them together. It took her a hot minute, but she managed to get the fire started.

Sequoya sat back and grinned. She didn't even care that smoke was rising into the sky. Wren came back, setting the pan of water on the stand above the fire.

"Where did you learn how to do this?" He asked, turning to her.

Sequoya grinned. "Back home. Everyone on my work crew can start a fire. We usually cook lunch out at the logging sites."

"_Sequoya_," Brendan's voice whispered in her ear. A shiver ran up her spine and the girl jumped up, grabbing her axe. There was no one behind her when she looked.

Brendan couldn't be talking. He was dead. The Career's murdered him on the first day. _Am I losing it_? She thought to herself.

"What is it?" Wren asked, jumping up.

"I... I thought I heard someone," she muttered. She wasn't about to tell him that she heard the voice of her dead district partner.

"You think there's a Career out there?" Her current partner asked.

"No... I think we're good. At least for now," she muttered.

"Sequoya! Look!" Wren called. She whipped her head around, raising her axe. Was there an enemy? Was it Brendan? She was expecting to see a tribute, instead, she found herself staring at a sponsor gift in Wren's hand. "Dried beef. Finally, I'm hungry. Something that's not berries."

Her body relaxed and she dropped her axe to her side.

**Temperance Hale**

**Capitol Citizen**

"I'm sorry about Kia," she told her aunt. She had been back on the train when she had died. Her aunt was always distant with her tributes, but Temperance knew she cared for the children under her care. Temperance had seen Mercedes when she came home with two dead bodies year after year. Personally, Temperance thought all the deaths were what made her so bitter.

Mercedes nodded. "Yes. So am I. Right now we have to do everything we can for Romeo."

"Excuse me," the rainbow-haired waitress said, coming up to her table. "I have your order. Fried- Oh my gosh! You're Mercedes Oto!"

Her aunt nodded tiredly. "Yes, I am. My order?"

"I have it right here!" The young girl said, gesturing to the platter she was holding. "Can I get your autograph? You're my dad's favorite Victor! He's a huge supporter of Six!"

She was from a family of Six supporters? That had been one of the strangest things she had learned when she came from the Capitol. There were people who latched onto a district and supported them in the games each year. Bet on them, sponsor them. Even Twelve had its supporters, though they were the smallest. She might be in the Capitol now, but she was from Six. It was the only district she could see herself sponsoring.

Mercedes glare turned icy. "I thought this establishment had professional service," she hissed.

Temperance felt a little guilty at that statement. It was her idea to come to Apollo's. It was supposed to be one of the finest eating establishments in the Capitol.

Her aunt's comment seemed to shame the waitress enough. The girl mumbled her apology and set their food on the table. Temperance grabbed her roasted duck stew and pulled it towards her. Before she could apologize to her aunt, the private room's holoscreen flickered to life, and Caesar Flickerman smiled out at them. Unlike even the television she had in her room back in Six, the ones in the Capitol could turn on automatically. Either for a government announcement, or mandatory games viewing.

"Well Claudius, it seems the biggest alliance is in a pinch," Caesar said like it was the most interesting thing in the world. He laughed his signature laugh.

"Quite indeed, Caesar," Templesmith said. Suddenly the two hosts were in a box in the corner. Five of the six Careers were moving down a hallway when a door from the ceiling opened. Three mutts came out, appearing as a cross between a human and wolf. The mutts rushed them and suddenly they were fighting for their lives.

"Folks watching at home with a keen eye might recognize some similarities between these monsters and the wolves that were released during the finale of last year's Hunger Games!" Templesmith said excitedly. "They are, in fact, related! These mutts are the prototype for those magnificent marvels of genetic engineering! In fact, we have a special guest in the studio to help us analyze what we're seeing! Please welcome the President of the Mutt Appreciation Society-"

"Off," Mercedes called. The holoscreen flicked off. "Unless it's something to do with a tribute from Six, I don't watch the games when I'm eating if I'm not at my station."

Temperance could relate. She wasn't a mentor; she had never been in the Hunger Games, but she hated the games. Being in the Capitol while they were going on was its own kind of special hell. No matter where she went, Temperance couldn't escape the games. It must have been worse for a mentor who had more to worry about.

"I asked my _uncle _for more money. He was happy to hand it out," Temperance admitted. As someone who had come from Six, it was mind-blowing just thinking about how much money he had. How it was so easy for him to give it away. "I want to give Romeo more money."

Mercedes stopped her spoon a few feet from her mouth. A wiry smile slipped across her lips. "Really? I'm sure Aero will be excited to hear it."

Temperance nodded. It was the least she could do. She might be living in the Capitol, the _niece _of a wealthy and powerful citizen, but she had no power in the grand scheme of things. With the connections she was inheriting, Temperance might just be able to change that.

**Helene Dulac**

**District 1 Female Tribute**

It was the first time she had been left alone to watch the alliance's supplies, and she wasn't taking the chance to run. It wasn't her uncle's advice that kept her where she was, though that was a part of it. She'd play her role, and act nice and friendly with her allies, but she knew they'd stab her in the back the first time she showed any weakness. Or when the numbers of tributes were to whittled down.

No, what really kept here where she was what she had seen yesterday. Call it a ghost, or a hologram, or an illusion, but the image of the dead girl was still fresh in her mind. Gleam said it was a Gamemaker trick, and he was probably right. Intellectually she knew that, but seeing the dead girl standing before her, talking? It scared the hell out of her.

If it was a Gamemaker trick, where was it going to end? She doubted it would be with ghosts.

Her thoughts drifted away from the ghost she saw yesterday when the scent of smoke hit her nose. Helene frowned, her eyes going towards the palace. She almost expected to see the palace burning, but the white stone stood solid in the sunlight.

Turning towards the forest, she could smoke coming out. Which probably meant that there were some tributes hidden away in the woods. Gleam wouldn't be happy to hear about that. It was him who said there wouldn't be anyone over there.

The gleam of a parachute caught her attention and she looked up. Yep, there was a sponsor gift coming down right towards her. She reached up and caught it, bringing the case towards her.

Was her uncle the sender? Why? They had more than enough food and weapons. The only thing they really might need was medicine.

Helene ripped the lid off. A pair of ruby red shoes staring up at her. Shoes. Someone sent her shoes. What was the point? The boots she had on here still intact.

It took her a moment to release these were the same shoes that were given to students back home in the Academy. They were specialized running shoes...

Running shoes...

Throwing the shoes down, Helene sprinted towards the opening of the palace door. As soon as she passed the threshold, it started to rain. What came down from the sky wasn't water though. It was a green liquid. She didn't even want to think about what the green liquid might be.

"Helene?" Gleam called from behind her. Coming down from one of the crystal staircases was her alliance. Their clothes were ripped and torn. Neptune had a bloody arm, but otherwise, they looked... Okay enough. "What are you doing here?"

"Getting out of the rain," she answered cheerfully. "What happened to you? An upstart outlier get in a few good hits?"

"Mutts," Ryker answered.

**Odysseus Maris**

**Victor of the Forty-Eighth Hunger Games**

He looked over to Augustus and nodded at the younger Victors' prudence. He had the funds to burn money at this point in time, and his tribute understood his warning. The green acid rain had started at the edge of the forest, getting the pair from Seven and Ten first. It was lucky for the two outliers that they were close enough to the cave they had taken residence in, so they escaped getting more than a few acid burns. They had food and water to last them a day or two.

The alliance was likewise lucky they had the foresight to hide their supplies in the Cornucopia. According to an anonymous source close to the Gamemaker's, the rain wouldn't last an hour. It was only to spice things up and would be used sparingly. Now if only he could keep himself from fidgeting so much.

"If you want to get a breath of air, I'll watch Margaret," Finnick mumbled to him. He turned and gave his fellow District 4 mentor a smile, standing up. Enobaria grinned at him as he left, her fangs exposed. During his games, he had joined the alliance, and since his victory, he has mentored alongside the other alliance Victor's, but this year he just wanted to get away from it all. It was normal for the Victors from One, Two and Four to gather together in one room, but tensions were riding high. Almost every Victor had someone close to them in the games. That usual distance between a tribute and mentor was gone.

As Odysseus closed the door behind him, he could only be thankful that no one related to him was in the arena this year. Annie Cresta couldn't mentor because of her madness, so he was chosen as the mentor for her sister. Margaret was a good kid, skilled, and if he played his card right, he might be able to pull her out.

"Warmed honeyed milk with crushed walnuts," Odysseus said to one of the avoxes standing against the wall. The red-headed girl nodded and went to get him his drink. The main room was deserted, other than the watching Peacekeepers and waiting avoxes. The games broadcast was still playing, but thankfully it had been muted.

The avox returned with his mug. He took it without acknowledging her. He would have commented on her speedy work, but that would only bring trouble down on her shoulders.

As she walked past, the avox brushed his side. He could feel her hand slip into his pocket. She had put something there. The whole building was bugged, and they were being watched every minute, so he couldn't see what it was right then.

Finishing the milk, Odysseus handed the empty mug off to another Avox before heading down the long corridor. His tribute was still alive, which meant that he wasn't allowed to leave, but no one cared if he went out for fresh air. The two Peacekeepers nodded at him as he passed. As a Victor from Four, he was seen as more trustworthy than those of the outlier districts. Had he been from any one of the other districts, he would have drawn more scrutiny, but he was a Career.

Of the three Career districts, only Two was truly loyal. One and Four were only a stone's throw away from revolt. One lived under Fortune's Luxury System, which gave way to any goodwill the people might have had for the Capitol. Being safe from the games meant little when the district's children weren't safe from the system.

Four, by contrast, didn't have its children stolen away by a power-hungry Victor. Their children were protected from the games by the volunteers they produced each year. The bounty of the sea kept them fed and healthy. Had Four not been crushed as harshly as it had been after the war, were the Peacekeepers stationed in his district not as harsh as they were, Four might have ended up on the loyalist side. The only reason Victors from One and Four were trusted more was because of the protection the Capitol gave their people. It would only take a word from Snow to shut down the training program in Four.

Far enough away from the building that no camera would be able to see him, Odysseus looked down below him at the Capitol. He took out the small note that had been left in his pocket and opened it. Mags' net handwriting graced the small piece of paper.

Memorizing the information, a smile crossed his face. If Thirteen was going to be backing their play, a light might just be at the end of this long tunnel. He couldn't help them right now because of the games, but once he was back in Four he'd start working. Most of the Victors back home were at least sympathetic. Finnick alone would go a long way in helping the cause. If they played their cards right...

Odysseus crumpled the paper into a ball and ate it. Evidence gone, he turned around back the way he came. He couldn't leave Finnick to watch his tribute for too long. It was unprofessional.

**Author's Note:**

**Hello! I hope you have enjoyed the Fourteenth Chapter!**

**Quicker update then normally. I've decided on a once per week upload schedule, and I will be releasing the new chapter every Wednesday.**


	15. Chapter 15: Arena Day 7

**Disclaimer:**

**I do not own the Hunger Games book series. It is the property of Suzanne Collins and the publisher Scholastic Press. The movies are owned by Lionsgate and other associated producers and creators. I am simply a humble fan, writing this for the enjoyment of other fans. Please support the official release.**

_Arena - Day 7_

**Gleam Delmas**

**District 1 Male Tribute**

He was awakened at the sound of the golden doors, and wooden gate opening. The brittle morning sun illuminated the courtyard, reflecting off the gold Cornucopia. Ryker was the only other person awake, whistling to himself as he cleaned his spear with a rag.

"Is it your watch?" Gleam asked, yawning.

Ryker looked over at him and nodded. "Traded places with Cassandra a few hours ago."

Gleam stood up and stretched, grabbing his scythe off the ground. "I suppose we should wake everyone up. Get some food in our stomachs before we set out."

It's been four days since Ryker ended the life of the boy from Three. Four days since there had been any deaths in the arena. The crowd could be growing bored as they sat on their fat asses, waiting for blood. The longer the Careers took to find some unlucky tribute, the more of a chance that a Gamemakers might decide they needed to spice the games up. Which would mean they could be put in the cross-hairs again. The Muttation's they fought yesterday were still fresh in his mind.

The idea of finding another tribute disgusted Gleam. Despite the mask he wore, the boy from One didn't want to kill anyone. He might have the skills for murder, but he didn't want to use then. What did his parents think as they watched him? What did his sisters think of their big brother?

Not for the first time, he cursed the fate of being born in One.

"Before you do that, I wanted to talk with you," Ryker said. He finished cleaning his spear, discarding the wipe one of the sponsors sent him.

Gleam frowned at him. "What about?"

Now he was curious. What did Ryker want to speak to him about when the rest of the alliance was asleep?

"We both know only one person is walking out of this arena alive," Ryker said, stating the obvious. "Only one of us is going home. When the alliance finally breaks, it'll be a free for all. You're the pack leader. Everyone will be gunning for you."

"What about it?" Gleam demanded. He knew that already. Taking leadership meant that he would be seen as the strongest. The biggest threat.

"Well, you might be good, but do you really think you could take the rest of use if we all decided you die first?" Ryker asked. In all honesty, Gleam didn't think he would be able to kill all of his allies in a fight. He had been planning to kill as many of them in their sleep as he could when the tributes numbers fell to low. That was the plan, but there was no guarantee his allies might get him before he could. "The fight might go better if you head back up."

"Just spit it out," Gleam ordered. For the first time since he had met the boy from Two, Ryker smiled.

"I'm proposing an alliance. When it comes down to it, I'll fight with you. The two of us will stick together until the very end. When we're the last two tributes, we fight it out," Ryker said, giving his pitch.

If nothing else, it sounded nice. The idea of having an ally to rely on was comforting, but Gleam didn't trust any of his allies. Not in the arena. Not in the Hunger Games. Despite his lack of trust, Gleam saw the logic in his statement. Ryker might be the ticket to surviving the breakup. Having someone fighting next to him would decrease the number of enemies he would have.

From Ryker's point of view, Gleam could be his ticket as well. If the rest of them managed to kill him, Ryker would have four people out to murder him. No guarantee he would survive. If he fought with Gleam, he would only have one enemy to kill if they both survive. If Ryker got lucky, Gleam might even be injured enough to put him at a disadvantage.

"Okay. It's a deal," Gleam agreed. He promised himself that he would keep an eye on Ryker for the time being. If the boy from Two looked like he was going to betray him, Gleam would cut him down.

As the two boys started waking up their allies, neither one of them noticed that Cassandra was awake. They didn't know that she had been listening and heard everything.

**Rance Walker**

**District 3 Female Tribute**

"It's finished," Rance declared

"All of them?" He asked.

"All four of them are finished," she promised, not taking her eyes off the table in front of her. "I would have had it done a long time ago if I had proper parts. I don't know what junkyard the Gamemaker's found, but they should really consider putting better parts in the arena next time. How do they expect me to work with them? If any of my other classmates were here, they'd have already given up."

"Are those... Guns?" Rye asked, seemingly in awe.

She nodded to him and handed one of the makeshift firearms to him. "Two of them are guns, yes. These aren't as nice as the ones Siren made in the Sixty-Sixth games. She might have been in a junkyard, but she found better materials. Still, these guns will work. They shoot shards of glass and bits of metal. They're delicate though, so make sure not to break yours," she told him sternly.

The boy from Twelve nodded. "How long do you think we've been in here?" She asked, turning to her partner.

Rye shrugged. "Honestly, I've lost track. A week, at least."

Rance nodded. She opened her mouth to speak when Rye nearly tipped over. She was smaller than him by a large margin, but she managed to catch him, throwing one hand on the table behind her. She slowly leaned him down, until he was sitting on the floor.

"How many times have I told you? You need sleep," Rance chastised. He had been staying up late with her each night as she worked, no matter how much she had tried to get it through his head that he needed sleep.

"You don't sleep," he shot back.

"I'm used to it," Rance snapped back. She was used to staying up late nights, working on equipment to help her family get by. "You're not. I'll be back-"

His hand shot out like a bullet, grabbing her wrist. "Where are you going?"

Rance snorted. "Really? We ate all the fruit we had last night. I don't know about you, but I'm hungry," she said plainly.

"But you'll be out there alone-"

She waved her gun in front of his eyes. "Hello? I have this," she reminded him. She didn't spend days working on the two guns for nothing. "I promise I'll be fine. If anyone tries anything, I'll just shoot them."

That thought scared the hell out of her, but Rance knew she would do it. She was going back home to her family, and she wouldn't let anyone stop her.

She held his blue eyes for a moment before he nodded. He let go of her wrist, which was a good thing. Rance didn't want to knock him out. But they needed food, and she was hungry.

"I'll be back as soon as possible," she promised.

Rance was prepared to kill if it came down to it, but she hadn't been expecting it to come so soon. As soon as she closed the door behind her, four people came running down the hallway. The boy in the lead was from an outlier district, but the three people behind were Careers. And all four of them were coming towards her.

Rance grabbed her makeshift gun and pointed it at the group. She didn't have any problems with the outlier boy, but the Careers following him wouldn't think twice before killing her. If the boy had to die so she could kill the Career's, then it was a sacrifice she would have to make.

Rance raised the gun and leveled it at them. She pulled the trigger...

Nothing happened. The group was getting closer. "What?" She hissed, pulling the trigger again. Nothing happened. Rance pulled the make-shift gun and pulled it closer to her face. She saw the problem right away. _How could she forget to load it_!

"Shit!" Rance cursed. She had loaded Rye's gun. Why the hell hadn't she loaded her gun! The group was closing in on her, and that left Rance with only one option: run.

She turned around and bolted down the hallway.

**Neptune Odair**

**District 4 Male Tribute**

"So the turtle comes up from behind him, and snatches the hat right off Finnick's head," Neptune said, the memory of that day causing him to laugh. "It jumps back in the water and it's gone before any of us can do anything. You should have seen the look on my dad's face. Mom wove that old hat for him."

The rest of his allies laughed. That day had been a good day. Eight months after his brother had come back from the games, and it was the first time he really saw Finnick smile. Not the cocky flirtatious smile that he seemed to always wear, or the smile that never reached his eyes that Finnick fed to their parents, but a real smile. A laughing smile.

"So, can anyone from Four just go out to sea?" Cassandra asked.

It was Margaret who answered. "If you have a boat. The Capitol doesn't care if anyone goes out to sea. There's not much out there according to them. As long as you have a boat, you can come and go. Three-quarters of all the fish you catch is taken to pay your fishing license."

"Fishing license?" Gleam asked.

"Everyone who owns a boat is automatically granted a fishing license," Neptune explained. "You pay for it by giving up three-fourths of your fish haul. Every haul you bring in."

"Can you fish as much as you want?" Ryker asked.

"No. You have seasonal fishing. You can only catch crabs or lobsters at certain times of the year. Any fish that's too small has to be released back into the ocean. It's to prevent overfishing," Margaret explained.

"Of course, those rules only apply in the coastal waters," Neptune quickly added.

"Coastal waters?" Ryker repeated.

Neptune nodded. "Those are the waters closest to Four. The district is made up of various villages along the coast. We're very spread out. The water closest to us is more regulated. But you can go further out, and fish to your heart's content. As much as you want, and any fish you catch. The only downside is you have to sail far from the coast to reach the free water. You'll be outside of radio transmission. Unable to call for help if you need it. If something happens, you're screwed."

"How do you know when you're that far out?" Gleam asked.

"Every boat is mandated to come with a GPS system. An old system, but it'll tell you when you reach the outer waters. It'll also send a transmission back to Aquroya, which is the administrative center of the district. Though any fish you catch that far out still goes to paying off your license."

"What's One and Two like?" Neptune asked. They had talked enough about Four as far as he was concerned. He had lived there his whole life there. He wanted to hear about something new.

"A bunch of mountain towns and villages," Cassandra said. "Nothing special."

"Are you free to travel within the district?" Helene asked.

"Yes. Mountain climbing is the biggest hobby in the district," Ryker said.

"What about One?" Neptune prodded.

"We're a city," Gleam answered. "A little smaller than the Capitol, but not by much."

Neptune was going to crack a joke about One being paved in gold and silver when he caught the scent of food. After hunting through the palace for hours, the spell of food made his stomach rumble. The alliance only had a small breakfast, and the smell of the food was way too good to ignore.

"Is that food?" Helene asked from her spot next to her.

Neptune and his allies sprinted down the luxurious hallway, coming to a grand wooden door. Figures were carved in the wood, but Neptune didn't care. He tore the door open and looked upon the shocked faces of three tributes.

The room was large, with a single table in the center. A large bowl of stew laid in the center, halfway gone. Three tributes (the pair from Nine, and the Six boy) were seated in front of other bowls. Two canisters of water were propped by the edges. On the other side of the room was another door.

The boy from Nine stood up as Neptune raised his trident. In a fluid motion, he flipped the table over in time to block Neptune's trident. As his allies filed in behind him, the smaller alliance sprinted out the far door.

"Come on!" Gleam called out as he sprinted in. "Don't let them get away!"

"Six is mine!" Helene laughed, running in after. Neptune ripped his trident out of the table and ran to the end of the room, and out the other doorway. The door led to another hallway. The small alliance broke; the pair from Nine were running down the left, the boy from Six ran down the right.

Neptune joined Helene and Margaret down the right hallway, chasing Six. The rest of the pack followed Nine.

At first, Neptune thought it would be an easy kill. He promised himself to end Six quickly. He wasn't about to let Helene or Margaret put on a show for the Capitol. The boy didn't seem ready to die and stayed well ahead of them. He wasn't fast enough to outrun them, but he did stay ahead of them.

Though Neptune, Helene, and Margaret started to slowly close the distance.

As they crossed through another hallway, Neptune was surprised to not just see one tribute, but two. The girl from Three was at the very end of the long hallway, staring at them in surprise.

Neptune saw her pointing something at them, and at first, he thought she might have been lucky enough to find a crossbow. Nothing happened, and as he got closer, he could see it was too thin for a crossbow. Three finally did the smart thing and turned around, running down the hallway.

"Hey!" Six called back at them, turning down another hallway. He was neck and neck with Three girl. "We can work this out, can't we? I don't want to kill you. You don't want to kill me-"

"Sorry, Six!" Helene yelled, pushing forward. Neptune and her moved closer to the fleeing outliers. "But I _DO _want to kill you! I promise I'll do it quickly if you stop running!"

"No thanks. I think I'd kind of like to live!" He answered.

The two of them were gaining on the outliers. Margaret was starting to fall a little bit behind.

"If you don't stop running, I'll make sure you don't die for hours!" Helene yelled.

"Only if you can catch me!" Six yelled.

"Stop egging them on!" Three girl hissed.

Neptune raised his Trident. They had just entered a long hallway. No turns, or doors until the end. If he could spear Six just right, he might be able to kill the boy in one good stroke. Then he could focus on Three.

He pulled his arm back and hurled his trident. In one move, Six would be out of the game. Before his trident could make contact, the floor below Six and Three's feet opened. Both of them disappeared in the darkness as Neptune's trident sailed over their head.

Neptune's eyes widened and he tried to stop himself, but the trap was too close and Neptune was running too fast. Before he could correct his course Neptune fell into the darkness. The last thing he saw before his world vanished was Helene falling in with him, the trap door sealing itself shut.

**Plutarch Heavensbee**

**Head Gamemaker**

Most people watching the game probably wouldn't be as appreciative of the logistics of running a game indoors as they should be. With the tributes inside, faces broadcast into the sky might not be seen. So they had to make sure the roof above the tributes would have the deceased faces displayed. The Hovercraft couldn't take dead bodies out of the arena. Which meant it was left to a psychical workforce to get them.

As soon as Neptune, Helene, Rance, and Romeo were unconscious, he overrode the Trackers. They were set up to keep sending constant information about the tribute's vitals. Plutarch canceled the living signals and made it appear that poison gas killed them. In the arena, four cannons boomed. Then he directed five members of the cleanup team towards them. All of them were his personal agents, with instructions not to disclose that any of them were alive. They'd remove the bodies from the arena, meet with the District 13 crew, and exchange the real tributes with the artificial bodies. Coin would them safely tucked away in Thirteen.

Two problems were now immediate. The first involved getting Finnick, Wiress, and Aero the information that their family members weren't really dead, but on their way to Thirteen. Plutarch considered telling Augustus, but he wasn't sure where the Victor's loyalty was truly held. He had reports that he wasn't a fan of Fortune or the Capitol, but you never know.

The other was explaining the deaths away. Four very popular tributes just died in a very boring way. Almost half the pack! No epic battle, no _show _being put on. Nothing. Just silently killed by poison gas. Though luckily for his own skin, Plutarch had already laid the trap, led the evidence all the way to Set. His biggest rival would be removed, and since she secretly had it added to the arena, he wouldn't be blamed.

Plutarch had to hand it to his rival. Without Set, he never would have even attempted to get one living tribute out, much less four of them. He knew Coin wanted at least one tribute from every game until they were ready to move, but he doubted he would ever get the kind of haul he just got. Next year he'd be lucky to get one out alive.

"Sir?" The voice of one of his aids called. The door to his office cracked open and she poked her head in. "President Snow is on the line for you. He wants to speak with you now."

Plutarch nodded to her. "Patch him through to here," he ordered. The aid nodded and pulled her head out of the doorway.

Plutarch stood up with a stretch, making his way over to the windows. He had a clear view of the Gamemaker's down below, and noticed Set staring up at the window. A wicked smirk was on the Gamemaker's face. Plutarch returned it with a smile of his own. By the end of the week, he predicted Set wouldn't be a thorn in his side anymore.

The sound of ringing filled the office.

**Wren Hyde**

**District 10 Male Tribute**

Since they had first boiled water, they had done it four more times. They hadn't seen hide nor hair of the Careers. He was starting to get a little paranoid. Wren was happy that they weren't out tracking him and his ally, but that just made him more ready to jump at shadows. Could they really not have seen the smoke? Were they really that blind?

When he brought it up with Sequoya, she just laughed. "Don't look a gift horse in the mouth," she said, throwing his words back at him.

As the days passed, Wren kept his knife close to him at all times, just waiting until he spotted one of the Careers.

When the anthem started to blare, Sequoya sat up quickly. Wren followed her lead, and the two of them poked their heads out of the cave in time to see the girl from One's face appear in the sky. For a moment, Wren was speechless. One of the Careers was dead? Now that was good news!

The girl from Three's face followed her, but he quickly disregarded hers.

It became even better news when the face of the girl from the boy from Four. The faces of the boy from Six followed, but Wren didn't really care. Two of the Careers were dead. The pack was always one of the most dangerous parts of the game, and in one night their numbers had been nearly cut in half!

After spending days in fear of being found and hunted by them, Wren felt amazing. Relief flooded through him. Almost half the tributes were dead, Career's significantly at a disadvantage from where they had been the day before!

Sequoya looked just as shocked as he felt, but that didn't last long. The two of them looked each other in the eye and started to laugh. For the first time since he had been launched into the arena, Wren felt a surge of hope. He might just be able to go home.

A sponsor gift fell right in between him and Sequoya. The scent of food hit him, and Wren ripped it open. Inside was a thick carrot stew, and a set of dripping pork chops. He and Sequoya were going to eat well tonight.

**Maisie Rosale**

**District 9 Female Tribute**

She couldn't stop herself from crying when she saw Romeo's smiling face projected on the ceiling. She and Wallace had barely been able to escape the three Careers chasing them, having to duck back through one of the hidden doors they found the day before. Romeo had been the one to find it. If it wasn't for their ally, they would not have lived through the day.

And how did she and Wallace repay Romeo? By leaving him to die. When it came down to it, she couldn't save her ally. Her friend. She was powerless to do anything other than escaping. She hadn't even considered staying to fight. What could she do against well-armed and trained Careers? Even more than that, Maisie didn't know if she could bring herself to kill them. In the unlikely event that she had the chance to. She froze up at the very thought of taking someone else's life. It was a weakness in the Hunger Games.

Maisie didn't expect the strong and warm arms to wrap around her, but she didn't fight it. Wallace had been quiet since she had first met him on the reaping stage so long ago. He had always seemed to put a distance between himself and anyone else, so she hadn't been expecting the hug.

Wallace didn't say anything as she started to cry harder. Crying for the smiling boy from Six, who always had a laugh on his face. He could have done so much with his life., but he would never get the chance. The Capitol took it away from him, and for what? Just to watch them die.

Romeo was gone and he was never coming back. Maisie was never going to laugh with him again. Never see his infectious smile.

"Thank you, Romeo," she heard Wallace whisper in her ear. "For everything."

Above them, Romeo's face was replaced with the seal of Panem.

**Author's Note:**

**Hello! I hope you have enjoyed the Fifteenth chapter! I also hope it was an exciting chapter!**


	16. Chapter 16: Arena Day 8

**Disclaimer:**

**I do not own the Hunger Games book series. It is the property of Suzanne Collins and the publisher Scholastic Press. The movies are owned by Lionsgate and other associated producers and creators. I am simply a humble fan, writing this for the enjoyment of other fans. Please support the official release.**

_Arena - Day 8_

**Aero Night**

**Victor of the Nineteenth Hunger Games**

"Mr. Night! Mr. Night!" The young report yelled, pushing her way through the line of Capitol Peacekeepers. "It's been a day since your grandson has lost! No one has been able to get a statement from you! Our viewers want to know, what you think of the disgraced Gamemaker's trap? Do you feel robbed of your chance? Augustus Braun and Finnick Odair have expressed their displeasure! Some have even suggested that Head Gamemaker Plutarch Heavensbee should be held-"

"Plutarch Heavensbee has only held the position for a year," Aero cut her off. He normally wasn't in the business of defending Gamemakers, but when this particular one secretly managed to smuggle his grandson to safety, he couldn't exactly let the press smear him. Plus he was the highest-ranking member on their side. "He cannot be held responsible for a rogue Gamemaker, who created that trap before he even inherited the position."

The reported wasn't about to give up. "Yes, but-"

Mercedes stepped in front of him. "You have your statement, vulture."

The young report pulled away, an offended look on her face. "I'll have you know I'm the up and coming-"

Aero walked away, letting Mercedes deal with her. The driver opened the car door for him and the old Victor slipped inside. He was only mildly surprised when he saw he wasn't alone in the back of the car.

Another young lady sat opposite him, though unlike the reporter, this girl looked more human. No colorful hair, no augmentation or alterations. It took one look at her uniform to figure out why; she was a member of the Praetorian Guard. The guards were only recruited from District 2. While there was a steady trickle of Capitol citizens willing to join the Peacekeepers (either for the honor and glory, or to pay off a debt), everyone knew the Peacekeeper's from Two were the real backbone of the force. People in the Career district had been indoctrinated since childhood. Many of them had been trained for years.

"President Snow wishes to extend his most sincere apologies for the elimination of your grandson. Gamemaker Set is currently in custody, and evidence is being collected. A small trial will take place on the twenty-fifth," the woman says. "It is the President's view that what happened is not in the spirit of the games. He has granted you permission to return to District 6 following this incident."

Aero had imagined something like this would be coming. Each Victor had a standing invitation to come to the Capitol every year for the games, but they could come and go as they pleased. The mentors were never allowed to leave the Capitol until the newest Victor was on their way home. If Snow was letting him leave early, the deaths of three popular tributes must have caused more unrest than he originally thought. He suspected that Finnick and Augustus were given the same treatment. He also suspected that no matter how the guard officer phrased it, they would all be out of the Capitol before the day ended.

"I'll be happy to take the President up on his... Thoughtful offer," Aero answered, making sure his voice sounded grateful. "Please convey my sincere thanks to our President for his swift action. I am sure Romeo's parents will take comfort in knowing the Gamemaker who cheated him out of his fair shoot is being held to account."

Aero could see the flash of anger that surged through her eyes. The backhanded thanks was the most he could do. The guard clenched her jaw, nodded once, and got out of the car. Aero only smiled at her pleasantly as she left.

He cracked the window down just a hair.

"Diver? Could you go and remind Mercedes that she should be in the car, not making a report cry?" Aero asked through the small opening in the window. Across the pavement, Mercedes had already brought tears to the eyes of the reporter, and she didn't appear to be planning to stop anytime soon. "Oh, and if it's not to much trouble, I'd like to stop by the Aries Cafe. I'm very partial to their pie."

His driver nodded and Aero rolled the window up. He grabbed the cellphone from his pocket and clicked it on. Pressing his thumb to the screen, it opened a second later. As he scrolled through his contacts to Mag's number, Aero thought it was quite the shame that cellphones only worked on the Capitol's network. It was so much more convenient than his house phone.

**Maisie Rosale**

**District 9 Female Tribute**

Her sleep was filled with images and scenes of her time with Romeo. They connected like a series of passing images, weaving together like the editors would cut together scenes of the Hunger Games to a three-hour film at the end. Maisie watched the scenes play by from a distance as if she was watching someone else's life, and not her own.

These scenes and pictures were punctuated by nightmarish visions of things that she hadn't seen happening. The Career pack surrounding Romeo, skinning him alive while the Capitol watched in laughter. Mutts ripping him apart piece by piece.

"MAISIE!" Wallace's scream cut through the haze of sleep. She shot bolt upright in her bed, looking around. Last night they had found a room with a real bed in it. A place for one of them to sleep, while the other one watched the door.

Wallace was over by the open door, using his sickle to block a claw. One that was reaching for his face. At first, she thought the thing attacking him was a mutt, but then she got a closer look.

It was Romeo. A distorted, monstrous version of the boy, but it was him. Romeo's skin was ashen grey, two long fangs extended out of his mouth, his hands and feet were claws. The whites of his eyes were pitch black, and his iris' were a crimson red.

"You left me to die!" Romeo's voice was deeper and gravity, but she would know it anyway.

"It was your idea to split up!" Wallace hissed, trying to keep Romeo's claws away from his face. "Maisie!"

"Romeo!" She yelled, throwing the blankets off her. "STOP!"

Romeo's eyes moved towards her. "How could you let me die?"

It was like ice piercing her. Her and Wallace had let Romeo die. It had been her idea to split up, hopefully dividing the Careers. It had worked, but three of them followed Romeo. Maisie had left him all alone while she ran with Wallace.

"I-" she tried to say, but couldn't find the words. How could she explain that she didn't mean for him to die? She really did think that splitting up was the best option at that moment.

All that it took was a second for Romeo to leap away from Wallace and towards her. Maisie tried to raise her hands to protect herself, but Romeo was too fast. His claws raked across her face, causing pain to explode from the wound.

Maisie dropped down, clutching at her face. She could see Romeo's claw covered in her blood as he stood over her. "Now you join-" was all he said before Wallace tackled him from behind. Maisie watched in horror as Romeo raked his claws across Wallace's chest. That didn't stop Wallace though, and her partner used his sickle to slash through Romeo's neck.

Romeo's head fell off his body and rolled towards her.

He was right. It was her fault that Romeo was dead. If she didn't suggest splitting up, he might be in the room with them now. Alive and laughing, not headless right in front of her. He wouldn't have been turned into that monstrous thing.

Maisie didn't know when the tears started to fall, but before she knew it, Wallace had wrapped his warm arms tight around her. He didn't say anything, and just let her cry.

**Margaret Cresta**

**District 4 Female Tribute**

"What happened?" Cassandra asked as Margaret walked through the palace doors. "We saw Neptune and Helene's face in the sky last night."

"We were chasing Six and Three-"

"Three?" Gleam asked. Margaret looked up and found him sitting on top of the gold Cornucopia. He eyed her, his scythe resting on his shoulder. His district partner was dead, and she didn't know how he was going to take that. Usually, when the pack finally broke, district partner's tended to stick together. Now he didn't have that safeguard. Well, he still had Ryker.

"Yeah, Three. She was in one of the hallways we chanced Six down," she answered calmly.

"What happened to Helene and Neptune?" Ryker asked, walking out from behind the Cornucopia. He bit into a peach.

"We were chasing them. Helene and Neptune got ahead of me," Margaret began. She could still see the whole scene play out. "The floor opened. Three, Six, Helene, and Neptune took a fall. It closed before I could look into the hole. Four canons went off, and all of their faces were in the sky."

Ryker looked up at Gleam. The boy from One shrugged and jumped down. "It doesn't matter. They're dead. Fewer tributes to kill. Are you hungry Margaret?"

She shook her head. She had found food before she made her way back to the courtyard.

"Perfect. Then we can hunt. Let's see if we can kill-"

"Actually, I want to check the forest," Margaret interrupted. "I slept in a room last night. I had a window. I think I saw smoke coming out of the forest."

Gleam frowned at her. "I thought you and Neptune took care of Twelve?"

"We did. That doesn't mean no one else is in there," she prompted. She had seen the smoke, but it wasn't why she was in the room last night. "They could have snuck out why we were hunting."

"We've always left a guard," he reminded her. "Anyway, those bats always come out at night. Wasn't Six girl killed by them?"

Margaret shrugged. "I told you. Neptune and I ducked in one of the cave. They didn't come in. If another tribute has figured that out, they could live out there. While we only search for the palace."

Before he could answer, a cannon sounded.

"Another one bites the dust. I wonder who it is," Ryker mused aloud. "We better get going. If we wait too long, the cannon folder might drop dead all on their own. We wouldn't want that."

Gleam sighed. "Fine. You go search the forest. Cassandra will stand guard over our supplies. Me and Ryker will go hunting," he said.

That worked perfectly for her. Margaret grabbed one of the free swords, loaded her belt up with knives, and made a show of leaving. Margaret didn't look back as she walked into the forest, disappearing from sight. She stopped under the shade of one of the trees. She gave Gleam and Ryker what she believed was an hour (though she had lost count of the minutes) before she crept slowly back to the gate. Cassandra was the only one in the courtyard, snacking on an apple.

"Hey," Margaret called, walking through the front gate.

Cassandra jumped up, and drew the katana. Thankfully she relaxed once she caught sight of who it was. "That was quicker than I expected. I didn't hear any cannons go off."

"Was none. I didn't look," she admitted. "Got another apple?"

"Why weren't you looking?" Cassandra asked, turning around to the Cornucopia. Margaret didn't miss that Cassandra moved to keep her in view.

"Because I wanted to talk to you. Alone," Margaret told her. If Ryker and Gleam were on the same page, that was bad news. They'd act together, and Margaret knew she couldn't take them both on at once. What she needed was an ally.

Cassandra pulled out a green apple, throwing it to her. Margaret caught it easily. "What do you want to talk about?"

She didn't sound angry. Just curious. Margaret supposed was a good enough sigh. At least Cassandra wasn't trying to kill her.

"Gleam and Ryker decided they're a team. When the pack breaks, they're going to fight with each other," Margaret revealed.

"That would leave the two of use at a disadvantage," Cassandra concluded.

Margaret smiled. At least she was quick on the uptake. "Yeah. So I was hoping to remedy that. What do you say? When the pack breaks, me and you stick together?"

"Until Gleam and Ryker are dead?" Cassandra asked.

"At the very least," Margaret agreed. "I was thinking that we could stick it out until the final two?"

There it was. Her counter offer. Cassandra smiled.

**Rye Mellark**

**District 12 Male Tribute**

Rye finally managed to drag the wooden bookcase in front of the door, sealing it. If anyone heard him while he was in the water, that case would make sure he heard them coming.

Sticky from all the sweat, Rye peeled his clothes off, discarding them in a pill by the corner. The dresser was full of fresh clothes for him to wear. He weaved around the table, taking care not to disturb the table with food. Finding a room full of food wasn't hard in this arena, but that could change any minute.

The bathroom was hidden behind a wooden door. The floor was made of fine white marble. The walls tapestries of past Gamemakers, the image of the men and women who made the lives of tributes hell, sewn into them. The ceiling was glass, letting the fading sunlight in. At the center of the room was a big bath tube, made of the same marble as the rest of the room. It was already full of steaming water.

Rye closed the door behind him before walking over to the bath. He stuck one finger into it, testing the heat of the water. It wasn't scalding hot, but it would make for an uncomfortable experience. Not that Rye really had the option of being picky. He carefully lowered the gun Rance made for him, setting it against the tub, close to where he would be laying, making sure he'd be able to grab it in a moment's notice.

Wanting to get it over with, Rye stepped into the bath before he had second thoughts. The water burned against his skin, but it wasn't unbearable. He lowered himself down until only his neck was above the water. As he adjusted to the temperature, he could finally start to relax.

Unfortunately, it was then that Rance and Nelly warmed their way into his head. His allies, the girls he entered the game with. Now both of them were dead. Watching Rance's face appear on the ceiling last night had been his worst night since he had gotten into the arena. He hadn't slept a wink since last night.

He still had the gift Rance gave him, but that was all he had left of his ally. Was it stupid to miss her? He hadn't even known her for more than two weeks. She had been with him since he had gotten into the arena, but that hardly meant that he knew her. Rye missed her so much. Nelly had been with him since he was reaped, but Rance had been the one with him in this hell hole. This place where he could die any minute.

Now that he was alone, Rye realized how much he relied on her. How much just having someone else with you helped in this place. His allies were dead, and less than half the field remained, standing between him and going home.

**Gloss Orfever**

**Victor of the Sixty-Third Hunger Games**

"You don't have to go, lovely boy," Mrs. Maxwell purred. Shoving his revulsion down, he gave her his brightest smile.

"I wish I could stay, but my cousin Gleam is counting on me," he said. Gloss made his voice take on a tone of worry. Not that it wasn't too hard. He was worried about the kid, but in his line of business, he learned the hard way never to let any real emotion show. Only what he put on for his clients or the crowds.

"Terrible shame about his district partner," Mr. Maxwell said pleasantly. He loaded his pipe full of dream-spice. "Helene was quite the beauty. Given a few years to fill out, and she might have become even more popular than your sister. I know you want money for Gleam, but I was hoping to sponsor her. The president owes me a favor, and I would have loved to be the first to taste her."

_I bet you would_ Gloss thought darkly. His flirtatious smile remained firmly on his face. "I'm sure she would have liked to make your company. You both have always been so good to me and Cashmere."

And Finnick, Odin, Aaron, Baron, Augustus, Siren, and who knows how many other Victor's. Gloss was firmly in Gleam's corner, but it was times like these he considered leaving Gleam to die. No one ever explained to any of the tributes that the lucky ones were the ones who didn't make it out. Had Helene won, she would have joined him and his sister. If Gleam won, he would join them as well.

Gloss just hoped his cousin didn't hate him for bringing him home. God knows he still resented Miracle for pulling him out. "Helene played the game well, but she lost."

Mr. Maxwell didn't look too pleased with that as he lit up the dream-spice and took a drag.

"That was a terrible thing that Gamemaker did," Mrs. Maxwell hissed. "I hope the president hangs Set for what-"

"Now, now, dear," her husband interrupted. "I would hate for the country to get in the business of executing Gamemakers."

The Maxwell's might be one of the richest families in the Capitol, but they were surprising sheltered from what went on in the upper classes. Gloss knew of four other Gamemakers the president had gotten rid of. Gloss wondered what he would think if Mr. Maxwell knew that little tidbit. Not that Gloss was going to tell either of them.

"Dear, that can't just go unpunished. I had bet ten thousand denarii on Neptune," Mrs. Maxwell pouted. Gloss hated people like them. Four kids just died, and all she cared about was losing her bets.

"I have full confidence that the authorities will take whatever measures they deem necessary," Gloss repeated the standard line. If he didn't say that, he risked more trouble than he liked. Victor's were still district citizens, and they didn't have the right to criticize the government. "I'm happy you both called. You know how much I enjoy our time together, but I was hoping instead of paying me, you'll be willing to donate to Gleam's fund."

Mr. and Mrs. Maxwell were one of his more frequent clients. They two often bought him from the president. They always had him together, and it had only been after many appointments did Gloss start to understand that the two of them were weird. Weirder than a lot of people in the Capitol. He supposed that might have been a trapping of wealth and influence.

"Of course dear," Mrs. Maxwell promised. "I'll make the arrangements soon. The money will be deposited in the One-Male account by tonight."

"Thank you," Gloss said.

"Why don't you stay and have breakfast with us, Mr. Orfever? I can make sure a nice District 1 meal is-"

"I appreciate the off, Mr. Maxwell. I do truly do, but as an official mentor, it is my duty to return my tribute," Gloss gave his excuse. Not that it really was one. Victor's were given a life of luxury. The Capitol went so far as to ban Victor's from holding real jobs. The only job a Victor had was as a mentor. That, and he couldn't stand being near the couple much longer. His skin crawled just being in the same room as them.

"Ah yes. Duty calls and all that."

When the door closed behind him, Gloss felt nothing but relief. Walking through the kind of elaborate garden you'd only find in the homes of the wealthiest Capitol citizens or on the estates of the Founding Families, Gloss pulled out his cell. Clicking the screen on, two new messages popped up. One from Cashmere, confirming she was on her own appointment. The other was from Caspian, with only a location.

Gloss was supposed to meet Miracle for lunch, but right at that moment, he didn't feel very warm towards his mentor. When he climbed into the back of the car, he told the driver to head to the Blue Lake Villa.

The Blue Lake Villa was one of the most elite restaurants in the Capitol. Only those with power and or connections would reserve a table there. The restaurant was a building made of hard glass, designed to reflect a rainbow of colors as the sunlight it. It was built on the shore of Blue Lake. Like the restaurant, the crystal blue waters reflected the sunlight in a similar, beautiful manner.

Gloss' many clients often brought him here before they inevitably returned home. Gloss, along with all the other Victors in the trade, spent a fair bit of time at the Blue Lake Villa. So much time in fact, that members of the staff recognized him on site.

"Mr. Orfever!" One of the waiters called out to him as he entered. The man looked familiar, but his name escaped Gloss. "Mr. Morse has reserved a private room for you."

Caspian Morse was one of Four's more popular Victor's. With roguish charm, he was the darling boy of Four before Finnick came along. It was a testament to his popularity that he was still one of the more desirable Victor's out of Four.

When Gloss opened the room door, Caspian was already sitting at a black stone table. A feast was laid out, and he hadn't bothered to wait before he started eating. "Gloss. Good to see you. Why don't you take a seat?"

Gloss hung his jacket, before taking the seat across from the other Victor. He smiled. "What's this about, Caspian? I hope you're not trying to ask me to set you up Cashmere again."

**Author's Note:**

**Hello! I hope you have enjoyed the sixteenth chapter!**

**For those of you curious about the cellphone reference, it's always been my headcanon that the Capitol has access to not only a cellular network but also a form of the internet. Of course, these are only available in the Capitol, leaving the districts to make do with phone landlines and no access to the web.**


	17. Chapter 17: Arena Day 9

**Disclaimer:**

**I do not own the Hunger Games book series. It is the property of Suzanne Collins and the publisher Scholastic Press. The movies are owned by Lionsgate and other associated producers and creators. I am simply a humble fan, writing this for the enjoyment of other fans. Please support the official release.**

_Arena - Day 9_

**Aaron Lockwood**

**Victor of the Seventy-Second Hunger Games**

"So, how did the meeting go?" He asked Caspian, the phone held tightly against his ear. The Victor on the other line paused, choosing his words carefully. With the Capitol authorities listening to everything they all said, it becomes necessary to answer in doublespeak.

"It went well," he finally said. "Gloss explained to me how they polished diamonds in One."

"Did he tell you the best place to buy any?" Aaron spoke back after a moment's wait.

"He said the best was in one, but he gave me a list of shops that should suit my needs here," Caspian replied, taking less time.

So Gloss decided that he'd rather side with them than the Capitol. Not that surprised Aaron. He had been under the impression that the Careers from One and Two were the more fanatical. Then again, since his own victory, he had been pimped out in Snow's special circle, though he was nowhere near as popular as Gloss, Cashmere or Finnick. He was quite thankful for that.

"Did you get the chance to speak with Cashmere?"

"Sorry, I didn't get the chance to meet her. I know you really want to get her out on a date," Caspian laughed like it was all in good fun.

Aaron made a disappointed sound. He didn't even have to fake it. It would have been best if they had been able to speak with his sister, but at least Gloss was on their side. The more Victor's in One and Two they could get on their side, the better.

"Thanks for trying. Maybe I can get Gloss to set us up," Aaron said laughing.

On the other end of the line, Caspian snorted. "Good luck with that. You don't know how protective he is."

"I guess. Thanks anyway," Aaron said, before clicking off the call.

"Everything okay?" Amelia asked him. Aaron nodded, slipping his phone back into his pocket. Normally he would be trying to tell her of the success they just had, but her daughter was in the games. Getting her out was more important, though it was his job to fight for Wallace.

"It's fine. Just looking for a nice diamond to give a girl," he shrugged, walking over to join her. He slipped back into his terminal, looking back at the screens below him. Wallace's vitals were still strong.

"Someone back home?" Amelia muttered.

Aaron nodded absently, pressing his finger to the Game Store icon. He just started to scroll through the food options (surprisingly low this far into the games. Probably because the food was so available) when Amelia yawned from his other said. For the first time since he had gotten up (at three in the morning), he got the chance to look at his mentor. Really look at her. Her skin was pale and clammy, dark bags under her eyes. She was nursing a cup off coffee and barely looked away.

"You should really get some sleep," Aaron told her. As the words left his mouth, the hollow feeling of hypocrisy surged through him. If one of his brothers was in the arena right now, he wouldn't be sleeping. He'd spent all his waking hours trying to get him out.

"My Maisie is in that horrid palace," Amelia started, not taking her eyes off Maisie's private stream. "If you expect me to-"

The cracking of the door interrupted her. Silas Safar walked into the room, two large white bags in his hand.

"He's right, Amelia," District 9's second Victor said. "You're no good to your daughter if you're dead on your feet."

Silas Safar was the man who pulled her out of the arena. If there was anyone who could talk her down, it would be him.

"Maisie is-"

Silas held up his hand. "Don't worry about her. I've had plenty of sleep. I'll watch her. I've done the same thing for you," he promised.

Aaron's mentor didn't look happy about it, but she eventually nodded. Aaron expected her to head to the bathroom and shower, but she walked straight to the room.

"Good job," he said, watching the older man sit down at Maisie's terminal. "I don't think she would have listened to me."

Silas shrugged. "I've mentored that girl for years. Steamed meat bun?" The older Victor offered, holding out a white bun. It was one of Aaron's favorite foods. As far as he knew, it was only available in the Capitol. It had come from a faraway land, long before North America was ashes. According to history, from a landmass called Asian. Or at least, that was the official Capitol line. Was there a large landmass that was once called Asia? It could be true, but the Capitol's official history was full of lies.

At the same time, he couldn't see a reason while the Capitol would make up some old landmass.

"Thanks," Aaron said, biting into it. The flavor rushed into his mouth, and Aaron had to hold back a moan of pleasure.

**Ryker Bedford**

**District 2 Male Tribute**

Ryker yawned, rubbing his closed eyes. It had been a few hours since Gleam, Cassandra and Margaret went hunting, leaving him with the boring job of guarding the Cornucopia. The sun moved upward in the sky, beating overhead. It had to be the hottest day in the arena by far, and he was stuck out in the burning sun.

Ryker had sought shelter in the Cornucopia, glaring reproachfully at the brilliant blue sky, avoiding the sun. As he glanced over the walls, Ryker spotted white smoke. At first, he wasn't sure he was seeing it right, but the longer he stared at it, the more he was sure it was there. Margaret hadn't had any luck finding whatever tribute was out there. But that smoke would lead him right to whatever it was.

He was supposed to stay alone in the courtyard and guard the supplies. That was where Gleam had ordered him... Gleam wasn't here right now. None of them were. Most of the tributes were probably lost somewhere in that giant palace. No one was going to be coming out right now...

Not wanting the chance to slip by (how long would a tribute be stupid enough to stay near an open fire?), he grabbed two spears from the pile of weapons and loaded down his belt with knives.

Ryker walked quickly through the open gates, turning left as he entered the forest. He could see the smoke over the treetops, and Ryker had to wonder what idiot would start a fire. Had the tribute gotten too comfortable? The pack hasn't come from them yet, so many they were safe enough to freely use fire. If that was the case, then Ryker would gladly tell them how wrong they were as he speared them.

Getting closer and closer to where the smoke was coming from, Ryker could feel his blood beginning to hum. It rushed through his body, the thrill of the hunt. He hadn't gotten any kills since the boy from Three and he was ready to up his count.

As he approached, he took care to move quieter. If he spooked whoever it was, they might run. Not that he minded giving chance, but if he could do it now, it would secure him more sponsors.

Ryker stopped at the edge of a clearing. A fire roaring below a pot, where a girl was tending to it. His eyes scanned the area, but he couldn't find anyone else. That was fine. He'd kill her quickly, see what she was making (before deciding if he was going to take or dumping it), and then get back to the Cornucopia. None of the others had to know about him leaving his post.

Ryker carefully took hold of one of his spears. He moved one leg back, positioning his arm and torso. It was the form he learned so long along when he was only a Stone rank back at the institute. Unfortunately, as he pulled back, his foot connected with a twig, and made a snapping sound. It was only a second later that he left his spear fly, but it was enough time for the girl to dive to the ground.

His spear sailed harmlessly over her head. Ryker cursed and grabbed the other spear. The girl turned around in a crouch, an axe held in her hands. He recognized her as the girl from Seven, which explained why she had it.

Ryker dived behind the closest tree, avoiding the smaller axe she ripped off her belt and hurled at him.

"What's wrong Two?" The girl called, a certain smugness in her voice. "Why don't you stop hiding?"

Ryker grabbed one of the knives off his belt, bolted out left from behind the tree, and threw it at her. The girl brought her axe up and deflected it. It was sort of surprising that an outlier could pull something like that off, but Ryker didn't dwell on it. He raised the other spear and once he was close enough, he thrust the end of the spear into her stomach. He wasn't able to get it all the way through her stomach, but it went in deep.

The girl bared her teeth at him but didn't let a sound of her pain through her lips. Instead, she raised her arms, axe in hand. Ryker pulled the spear out of Seven, and jumped back in an attempt to avoid her strike. He avoided the worst of the blow, but the axe blade carved through his arm.

Pain flared through his body, his vision turning red. He drove his spear forward toward her stomach, but she weaved out of the way, bringing her axe toward his neck. Ryker barely avoided having his head chopped off when he ducked.

He grabbed a knife from his belt and slashed it out across her stomach. As the blade cut across her skin, Seven raised her foot and kicked him in the face. The taste of mud and blood mixed in Ryker's mouth. In retaliation, Ryker lashed out and brought his fist against the spot where his knife cut across her stomach.

It had the desired effect and she pulled back. At that moment Ryker grabbed hold of his spear with both hands and drove it all the way through her stomach. This time Seven couldn't stop the scream from bursting through her lips.

She threw her axe, but he was easily able to get out of the way as it slowly left her hand.

His face was coated in her blood when Ryker pushed her down to the ground, twisting the spear. Wanting to end it, he grabbed another knife from his bed, let go of his spear, and cut her neck as deep as he could. Her blood gushed out of the wound, but already her cries of pain were becoming weaker. Her fiery eyes bore into his, and Ryker watched as the light left them.

As her cannon boomed, he stood up and grabbed his spear, ripping it out from her body. He was wondering how he was going to explain the blood and his wounds (he was supposed to stand guard) when something hit his back. The worst pain he had ever felt exploded from his back.

**Katniss Everdeen**

**Co-Victor of the Seventy-Fourth Hunger Games**

The entire world around her was crashing down, and all the blue-skinned Capitol woman could do was smile. Prim. Her sister Prim. Dead. The only person in the whole rotten world that she was sure she loved. Gone. In one swift moment of fire.

"Mr. Mellark has yet to be informed," the blue-skinned woman said, looking over her glasses. "As he still has a living tribute, it was decided that he should be kept in the dark about the event until the games are over... Or until his tribute is eliminated."

_Eliminated. _That's the official term for the games. The tributes aren't some pieces that just get _eliminated _as they're removed. They're people. They die.

If it was any other time, Katniss would have taken offense. Perhaps even made a passive-aggressive retort. Not with the world crashing down on her. Not with Prim's body back in District 12, burnt beyond all recognition.

"The president wishes he could be to deliver the news in person," the woman continued. "Right now he is attending another function that requires his attention. As the Secretary of the Office of the President, allow me to extend my most sincere-" was the last thing Katniss heard before she started crying.

She always hated being weak. Hated anyone to see her weakness. She even kept her cool when she was with Gale in the forest. Right at that moment, she didn't care because the sun of her world had been extinguished.

Katniss vaguely remembered the woman trying to calm her, before giving up and finally calling for someone. She couldn't remember how it was that she got into the black car, but the next thing she was aware of was watching the streets pass by through a wall of tears.

It was the worst pain she could possibly imagine. Even more, than being in the arena. Killing Marvel and Cato, and Glimmer and the girl from Four. Watching Rue die. Seeing Peeta near death. The tracker-jacker stings. That pain was like a river, making its course. Katniss now faced an endless ocean, where the only thing she could see was a future without Prim.

It wasn't fair. Life wasn't fair, her father used to say. For a moment she could clearly recall her father's kind face. He smelled of coal, and his close was darkened, but a wide smile was etched across his face.

Through her tears, Katniss could see the huge building they were passing. A familiar sight, as the neon lights spelled out _Paradise. _The place where Haymitch had taken them when he wanted to show them how to mentor. It felt like a lifetime ago, back where the pain wasn't all-consuming.

"Driver," Katniss choked through her tears. "Take me there."

A reply came moments later: "Are you sure, miss Everdeen? I have instructions to drive you back to Mr. Abernathy-"

"TAKE ME THERE!" Her scream ripped raw through her throat. The driver didn't speak again, but they slowed down, pulling into another lane,

The pain was the worst thing Katniss had ever felt. Only the day she heard of her father's death came close to what she was feeling now. Like Prim, Katniss knew loved her father. Her father and her sister. The two people that meant the most to her. Gone. Leaving her only with a pain that seemed endless.

Katniss didn't want to feel that pain. She'd reach into her chest and pull out her heart before she'd keep on feeling that pain. Luckily for her, she remembered a way out. Katniss didn't have to keep feeling the horrible pain.

She pushed the door open as soon as the card pulled to a stop, running through the back door. A special entrance for Victor's who wanted to be discrete. Or mentors preparing to try and get as much money for their tributes as possible.

The luxury was the exact same way she remembers it. The scent of food was so expensive, the only way a dirt poor girl from District 12 could be near it was by winning the Hunger Games. The crowd of almost alien people, milling about the room. The richest people in the cursed city she was forced to stay in.

None of that was what she was looking for. Her make-up, no doubt destroyed from her tears, served to hide her face because no one gave her a second look. She had flash her Victor I.D. before they'd let her inside.

No, what she was looking for was the colorful drink. The same one that one of these people gave her on her first day here. She didn't have to search for long. Servers moved about the billing crowd, carrying glasses of the rainbow drink. Katniss pushed her way through the crowd, not caring about the freaks touched.

She grabbed a glass off one of the gold platters held by the severs and downed it all in one gulp. If rainbows had a taste, Katniss was she this is what they'd taste like. It was as if she was drinking color itself, and all her pain melted away. Suddenly Prim's death didn't seem so important. Honestly, she couldn't really recall why her sister's death had upset her so. Prim was gone. Katniss was still here, with the best tasting drink in the whole world. In a crowd of people who loved her.

"By thunder!" A young man next to her called. Katniss turned to look at him. He wasn't the most attractive, but he looked pleasant enough. His eyes were her favorite shade of green. "Are you Katniss Everdeen?"

She laughed. "I think so! Who are you?"

**Wren Hyde**

**District 10 Male Tribute**

When he heard Sequoya scream, he dropped the berries he had been collecting. He turned on his heels and sprinted down the now-familiar path, back to the area they had been staying in. He came through the trees and froze at the sight. The boy from Two stood over Sequoya, his spear firmly in her body. For a second, he was frozen in spot, watching the Career kill his ally. The girl who had been with him since the final day of training. Had gotten him out of the palace out into the forest.

Instead of the fear, Wren thought he would feel when finally confronted by the Careers, anger flared through him. Until that moment, Wren had thought he knew what hatred was. He hated the Capitol for taking his brother and forcing him into the Hunger Games, for putting his district under the boot. He hadn't the Peacekeepers for enforcing the abhorrent laws on his district. His people collaborated with the Capitol oppressors. The man who almost beat his mother to death while Baron was fighting for his life.

None of that compared to the hate he felt for the boy from Two. The boy who was taking his only friend away from him. The only person in the whole rotten arena that wasn't out to kill him. The only person he could rely upon.

Wren was debating the merit of just tackling him from behind when a glint on the ground caught his eyes. He looked down to see Sequoya's axe on the ground as if she had just left it there. Wren leaned down and grabbed it. Unlike Sequoya, he didn't grow up learning how to swing an axe. He couldn't fight with it as well as she could, but the boy from Two wasn't that far away, to begin with.

As the boy took his spear and pulled it out of Sequoya's body, Wren grabbed the axe with both hands. With a grunt of effect, he threw it at the Career, watching as the axe sank into Twos back.

Two screamed and collapsed, dropping his spear. Wren took one of his knives and ran over to the downed Career, stabbing him in the head. Again, and again, and again. Two tried to fight him, but the axe in his back must have stopped sapped his strength away. Wren kept bringing the knife down until he heard another cannon boom.

He had done it. Wren had killed a Career and now there were only three of them left. There were less than ten tributes, only three of the Careers, and he was so close to getting the hell out of the arena.

He was closer than ever before. He, some backward boy from Ten, who never learned how to kill, might actually be able to win. But as he stared at Sequoya's lifeless body, her eyes focused up at the bright blue sky, Wren couldn't find it in himself to celebrate how much closer he was. Sequoya was gone, and she was never coming back.

In the privacy of the forest, Wren began to cry.

**Author's Note:**

**Hello! I hope you've enjoyed the seventeenth chapter!**

**No one reviewed my last chapter o.o Sadness**


	18. Chapter 18: Arena Day 10

**Disclaimer:**

**I do not own the Hunger Games book series. It is the property of Suzanne Collins and the publisher Scholastic Press. The movies are owned by Lionsgate and other associated producers and creators. I am simply a humble fan, writing this for the enjoyment of other fans. Please support the official release.**

_Arena - Day 10_

**Katniss Everdeen**

**Co-Victor of the Seventy-Fourth Hunger Games**

The lights danced all around her, moving to the beat of the music. She was in some rich citizen's giant ballroom that had been converted to a dance hall. Katniss vaguely remember excepting the invitation of some pretty boy telling her about a house party he had been invited to, and how it would be so much more fun if she would come.

Alcohol, drugs, and food flowed freely. She learned the drink she had was a mixture of spirits and a drug that lowers inhibitions... Whatever that meant. It lasted for hours, and whenever she started to consider returning to Mentor Headquarter's, she downed another glass.

The mass of bodies moving around her was warm. Katniss was the center of attention, everyone wanted to dance with her. Shower gifts on her. She was already wearing the most revealing dress she had ever worn, exposing her bust and legs more than she would have been comfortable within any other situation.

Despite the effects of the drinks, Katniss stayed away from the clear liquid. Something in her refused to drink it. Watching people stuff themselves, throw up, and then continue eating made her skin crawl. In the state she was in Katniss couldn't put her finger on why, nor did she care to try and find out. Instead, she avoided the table all the same.

The music changed, the base higher, deeper. The tempo picked up and suddenly the mass of bodies moved quicker. A sea of people was dancing to the beat, and for a while, Katniss moved with them. More drinks were offered, more food, more pills, and powder. The flashing lights above her started to blue into a strange rain of color. Katniss couldn't see if that was an effect, or if it was just something she was seeing. Not that it mattered.

"You should go up," a handsome boy called to her. He was dancing next to her, completely naked. He was very nice to look at.

"What?" She asked, moving to the beat.

The boy pointed at the table she was dancing by. A few of them were scattered around the hall, but she hadn't paid them much attention. A girl was already on top of the table, dancing for the crowd. Being cheered on.

"You should go join her!" The handsome boy said.

Katniss grinned her carefree smile and asked a few of the people to help her up. When the other girl saw her she glided straight at her, all without missing any steps. Other than the very tight leather of her small shirt and shorts, the girl wore nothing. She did come to dance a lot closer than Katniss would have been comfortable with.

"You're Katniss Everdeen," the other girl purred, pulling closer to her.

"So they tell me," she answered back, flirting just a little bit.

The girl pulled forward again until she was only inches away from Katniss. "I watched your games last year. I was rooting for you and your pretty baker's boy."

"Thanks. The president didn't like the ending."

The girl snorted. "He doesn't like anything."

The crowd of people around them began to cheer, encouraging them to dance more. Katniss noticed many of them stopped shaking, instead of just watching the two. Not that she cared. More fun for her.

"I never did get your name, sweetheart," Katniss whispered, using the name Haymitch always called her.

"Johanna Mason," the other girl purred. She wrapped her hands around Katniss and pressed herself against her. "The last person in my family died nine days ago."

Katniss didn't understand why Johanna would bother telling her. It was depressing, and she didn't want to think about depressing things.

Katniss almost jumped when she felt Johanna's hands grab her butt. "Mm. Soft. I can see why baker boy likes you."

Even under the influence of god-knows-what, she felt a little uncomfortable. Before she could ask the girl to please let go of her, Johanna pressed her lips to hers. Peeta was the only person she had ever kissed. He was all she knew. Whereas Peeta was kind and gentle, Johanna was rough and quick. Katniss might have yelped when she suddenly felt Johanna's tongue, but whatever was in her system was already taking effect. Peeta was back at that horrid black building, doing his best to help his brother. So what if she fooled around with an attractive friend? It wasn't hurting anyone.

**Margaret Cresta**

**District 4 Female Tribute**

"Are the doors still locked?" Gleam asked, casually holding his scythe on his shoulder. Margaret tried pushing open the elaborate doors, but they didn't budge. Since the start of the games, they had been open every day, only closing at night, which meant that they were in the end game now.

She turned around and shook her head. "No."

"Merde!" Gleam hissed, cursing in that strange language of his. Gleam had told them it was called French, and every child in District 1 was forced to learn it. It was a matter of pride for the district, something that set them apart from all the other districts. Well, all of them accept Ten, which Margaret remembered also kept alive an otherwise dead language.

For what Annie told her in her sisters fleeting moments of sanity, numerous languages other than English were spoken in the Capitol by the academic's, wishing to keep them alive.

When Gleam turned around, Margaret turned to look at Cassandra. The other girl met her eyes and an understanding passed through them. At this point in the games, Gleam was the most dangerous tribute to them. He was strong enough to lead the pack, and keep it together. He got the highest score in training, an eleven. Like Katniss Everdeen did last year, and she won. Margaret had seen the way he used that scythe. She knew he was deadly.

He lost his only ally. Now it was two on one. They'd both have better chances of taking him together. Then the two of them could clear out the rest of the field, and duke it out when they were the last two.

Then Margaret could finally go home. She missed her sisters dearly. Her mother and father. The scent of saltwater. Swimming in the ocean. Her life back in Four. The life the stupid quell took from her.

Hopefully, unlike Annie, with her sanity intact.

Cassandra slowly pulled out the curved sword from its sheath. Margaret mimicked her, drawing out three throwing knives. With his back turned, now was there best chance-

"Margaret," the sickeningly sweet familiar voice called. She could almost feel the blood drain out of her face when she heard his voice. Her head snapped right and she looked just in time to see a monstrous Neptune hurl a trident at her.

Margaret barely managed to duck, seeing Helene and Ryker (suffering the same kind of distortion) sprint out from behind him, running towards their district partners.

Neptune rushed at her. Margaret pulled back in time to weave out of the way of his claw. She brought up one of her knives, slashing his wrist. Neptune hissed but the attack didn't seem to faze him. His other claw raked across her chest, causing a deep stinging pain.

She twisted around him, grabbing the larger short sword. When Margaret turned to face him, Neptune had a hold of his trident again. She quickly glanced around the room, seeing Gleam and Cassandra locked in battle with their deceased district partners, refusing her attention on her demon.

A loud cracking sound of thunder filled the room before the green gas shoot out of the walls. Margaret had taken enough Games History glasses to know avoiding gas was the smartest option. It was even more deadly than Neptune.

Margaret turned around and ran to one of the hallways leading out. She could run towards the Cassandra, but the room was filling too quickly with gas and she didn't know if she could make it to her ally.

Heavy footsteps followed her. "Why are you running?" Neptune's mocking voice called from behind her. "I'm just here to bring you back to the hole! You didn't come to join us last time."

She turned the corner into another hallway and quickly turned around. Margaret stood her ground as Neptune turned the corner, and she slashed her sword out at him. The blade cut through his skin and the creature that was one her district partner howled.

It hurt her more than she would have liked to admit. Throughout the train ride and their time in the Capitol together, she had grown to like him. Margaret wished she had spent more time with him back in Four before they were both condemned to their fate. Margaret would have liked him, though if she might have followed in Annie's footsteps she didn't know.

It was too late for all of that. All that she could do now was shove her feelings somewhere deep down inside her and put Neptune out of his misery. How the Capitol could do what they did to him she would never understand.

She pulled the sword back and swung again, but Neptune caught the blade in his thick hand. Bloodshot out from where it made contact, but it didn't go in as far as she would have liked.

He brought his trident to her side, and Margaret quickly let go out her short sword, jumping out of the way. She couldn't avoid the tip ends of his weapons, slicing through the stomach of her skin.

Margaret pulled out another knife from her belt and stabbed it into Neptune's neck. It sank into his skin like butter, Neptune's body offering no resistance. When Margaret ripped it out, his hot blood soaked her face.

Breathing heavily, she slowly backed away from him. Margaret remembered one of the most basic combat classes she attended back at the center. The neck was one of the weakest spots on the body. One good cut or stab and that would end a life. They wouldn't die instantly, but it was a fatal wound...

Well, she thought that's what the instructors said. In the heat of the moment, remembering some combat lesson she attended years ago.

Was the thing in front of her Neptune? Now that Margaret had a chance to stop and think about it, she felt stupid for even considering it. There had been a few times in the games where mutts were made specifically to mimic the tributes. Like last year at the end confrontation, they had done just that. The mutt in front of her might look like Neptune, but it wasn't.

The mutt grabbed the spot where she cut into his neck, glaring at her. His bright blue eyes began to bleed, the iris's becoming red. In a grotesque display, his teeth extended into fangs, his face becoming more animalistic.

Letting out a screech, the mutt leaped towards her, faster than something with a fatal wound had any right to be. The mutt slammed against her, knocking her to the ground. The thing leaned down and bit into her neck.

The pain flared through her body, but she did her best to ignore it. Margaret slammed the last knife as hard as she could into the mutt's neck. The mutt died with a gurgle of pain. Its jaw loosened, and she pushed the body off of her.

Now it was her turn to grab her neck. She pressed down hard against the wound, recalling her survival training. Margaret knew she had to push pressure on the wound. Stop the bleeding.

A shadow passed over her head, and she looked up in time to see a parachute falling. Coming right at her, she reached up and grabbed it, pulling it out of the air. She didn't waste any time opening it. White gaze, and a small black box. She grabbed the box and opened it, finding a clear cream. Margaret dropped her fingers into it and whipped it on the wound on her neck.

The pain vanished, and she had just enough time to sigh in relief when a new pain shot up through her back.

**Rye Mellark**

**District 12 Male Tribute**

Rye walked slowly down the hallway, wondering if he looked as bad as he felt. He had spent the last two nights being haunted by Rance. Her ghost (or whatever it was) never letting him have a moment of peace. It was his fault she had died. How could he let her leave alone?

On and on it went, throughout the night. Rance only dissipated when the sun came up and illuminated the room they had stayed in. Rye had thought the day Peeta covered for him when he got into the flower was the worst day of his life. Watching his mother hit his brother had been seared into his mind. Even that didn't hold a candle to the hell he had gone through.

It was torture, unlike anything he could have ever imagined. More than anything though, he just wanted it to stop. Wherever he went, _Rance _followed him.

If that wasn't bad enough, her phantom had taken to hunting him during the day. Rance's image would appear anywhere. From standing in empty hallways, to her reflection in mirrors when it wasn't there. She would laugh and taunt the whole time. Leaving Rye with little a moment of peace.

He stopped at the end of a hallway, catching sight of a figure in the next room. At first, he thought it was Rance, and he waited for her to start speaking again, wondering if maybe this time a knife would finally silence her. Then he got a look at who it was. The girl from Four was sitting on the ground, her back to him. She was reaching up for a parachute.

As she started rummaging through it, Rye raised the make-shift gun Rance had created for him. A few days ago, he would be shaking at the thought of taking someone else's life. But the last two nights Rance had made his life miserable. He was tired of it and more than anything he just wanted it to stop. He wanted to go home, see his family and his girl, and just have a good night's sleep. The only way that could happen was by winning the games. The only way to win was to kill.

Rye pulled the trigger. The broken glass and metal shoot forward. A cannon fired.

**Author's Note:**

**I hope you have enjoyed the eighteenth chapter!**

**I'm really iffy about this chapter. Not sure how the non canon Joniss scene will go down tbh, but... Well, I think could have possibly have happened, if the rebellion hadn't kicked off. This doesn't mean the end goal wouldn't be Peeta, but... Well, if I told you all the end game, that'd be spoilers XP**

**In case anyone was wondering, I ship both Everlark and Joniss. I'll just leave you with that little tidbit :3**


	19. Chapter 19: Arena Day 11

**Disclaimer:**

**I do not own the Hunger Games book series. It is the property of Suzanne Collins and the publisher Scholastic Press. The movies are owned by Lionsgate and other associated producers and creators. I am simply a humble fan, writing this for the enjoyment of other fans. Please support the official release.**

_Arena - Day 11_

**Caligula Bells**

**Head Interviewer: District 12**

It was only his second year as a Head Interviewer for the games, and once again he was out to Twelve. Not that Caligula minded all that much. Unlike many of his colleagues, he enjoyed spending time in the more rural districts. It was why he originally took the job. Back then he had only started out on the lowest rung of the district interview staff. Now he was at the top.

Caligula ignored the Peacekeepers shadowing him as he walked through Twelve's shopping center. The locals called it the square. It was small, cozy, and quaint. His life in the Capitol was fast paced, endless meetings and duties that Caligula never could seem to get away from. Out here in Twelve, in the small district, life didn't seem so fast. These people lived their small lives and in a way he was jealous. If he had the money he would retire in one of the mountain villages, living out the rest of his life in comfort. Alas, he did not have that kind of money, and as a Head Interviewer for the final six of the Hunger Games paid well, it wasn't enough to retire on.

As much as he moaned, even if he had the money, Caligula doubted he could make himself retire, despite how much he told himself otherwise. The rebellion didn't exactly have a lot of members in the Capitol. The life style his people enjoyed was the result of the way things were run. Even the poorest citizens in the Capitol had access to welfare programs that citizens in the districts could only dream about. Outside of One and Two that is.

In the Capitol no one starved. As long as you didn't have any debts, one could apply for government housing and be given a small apartment that very day. A stipend would be granted to by food and other essentials. Water in those apartments wasn't even charged.

No one in the Capitol was homeless, not even debtors. No one went hungry, unlike the people of District 12. He had seen the children in the Seam, and watched them on the streets. It was what had brought him to the Rebellion's attention in the first place.

"Sir?" Carly, his assistant, called. The perky girl walked up to him, offering him a cup of coffee. "I got Rye's father, some of his cousins and school friends. Even Gale Hawthorne. Figured we could get him in on the Katniss, Peeta love angel."

"His father? What about the rest of his family?" Caligula inquired as he began sipping on his coffee.

"They're dead," his assistant said bluntly. "Died a few days ago. In a fire. So burnt they had to be identified by dental records."

Caligula felt a peg of pity spike through his chest. Peeta Mellark was a good kid. He didn't deserve what had happened to his family. In the back of his mind, Caligula wondered if this might have been some _accident _set in motion by the government.

"Damn shame," he muttered.

She nodded. "Everdeen's died in the same fire. When those two love birds get back home, I don't think they'll be very happy."

If anything, Caligula felt even worse. "Shit."

He pushed his emotions back away into the back of his mind. He still had a job to do, even if he didn't like it.

"Put Mr. Mellark up first. We'll avoid the topic of his family for now. Focus just on Rye. Leave the big wig officials to make the official announcement."

"Wise," his assailant said, writing on her small notepad.

"Hawthorne next. We'll see if we can get anything about supporting the brother of his soon to be family member." The narrative was still Gale Hawthorne equal Katniss cousin. Maybe Caligula had just been in the business too long and was able to see behind the scenes that most people in the Capitol never got the chance to, but as far as he was concerned, you'd have to be an idiot not to see how much Hawthorne liked the girl on fire.

"Good choice, good choice." His assistant wrote down another line of instructions. "Handsome boy like him will be popular. Too bad he isn't Reaping age anymore. He would have made a fine tribute. Anyone else?"

"Rye said he was on the wrestling team, didn't he? In his interview with Caesar. Push them to the front. We'll put a focus on his wrestling career. Try and drum up some interest in his combat skills."

"He has a gun now, doesn't he? Don't you think that it doesn't matter?"

Caligula gave her a sad smile. There had been a time when he might have thought the same thing. Before he had been deprogrammed. "You can never tell in the games."

"We also have a Delly Cartwright. According to all his friends, she was going out with Rye before he was reaped."

"A girlfriend? Was it serious?"

"I can't say. She did cry for him at the reaping, but they only started going together after the Victory Tour. Not really enough time to be very serious, if you ask me."

Caligula nodded, considering her words. "Put her after Gale. We'll try and play up the love sick lover angle. If worst comes to worse, we'll play it off as nothing serious."

"We could put it in the light of Rye being a playboy," he assistant suggested. "He's good enough looking to be a heartbreaker. Maybe this relationship isn't something serious. Just another fling?"

Caligula nodded his assent. He didn't really care for the idea, but the show must go on.

"Right. So his dad, Hawthorne, girlfriend, wrestling team members, and friends," his assistant summed up nicely. "Right. Well, let's get everything ready. I'll send the junior interviewers to the rest of the down and the Seam to see if we can get anymore juicy bits."

**Temperance Hale**

**Capitol Citizen**

She didn't dream; she only remembered. Temperance had still been in Six during the memory. It was the dead of winter, snow falling over the well up kept buildings of Upper. She looked out her window, across the river to Lower. Even from that far away, she could see the run down the buildings. The snow was just falling in earnest, and she was wondering if the man she had seen in Lower that day was still on the street corner.

In reality she had fallen asleep soon after, but her memory took on more of a dream quality, and she sat by the window through the night, watching the snow rapidly covered the world. When the sun came out and it finally melted, District 6 was gone, replaced by the colorful streets of the Capitol.

Her _uncle _was at the table when she came down in the morning. Since that first day when he had casually given her ten thousand denarii, she hadn't seen very much of him. The servants who could speak told her that he was a very busy man, and each day he left her money so she could explore the city.

She had been left to her own devices, which suited her just fine. It gave her more chances to spend with her aunt, who played guide. While Mercedes didn't live in the city, she had been coming to the Capitol since she won, and knew it a lot better than Temperance did.

Now her aunt is gone, back to Six with Aero. Temperance was left all alone. She often spent time at the Hale Manor House, trying to learn as much about the Capitol as she could. It didn't come as a shock to learn her education in Six wasn't very high, compared to what children in the Capitol were taught. Even the common public schools had a higher level of education than the one she attended in Upper.

Temperance had broached the topic of school once, only for her _uncle _to dismiss it. When the Fall, she would be attending a specialized school that helped kids who moved to the Capitol from the mountains villages.

The holoscreen flickered to life as she stepped into the shower. Every shower in the house had a holoscreen built into it. Another strange facet that she was growing accustomed to in the Capitol.

As she started to wash herself, the interview of Gleam Delmas' family started. The tributes numbers had been whittled down to six, which meant that the final interviews before the end of the Hunger Games would be taking place.

It started with in District 1. Gleam Delmas' mother and sisters were led into a luxurious interview room, where all six of the women showered nothing but praise on him. How honorable he was, how he was bringing One honor. It moved onto interviews with his classmates and teachers.

District 2 came next. The girl's family were cool, and a little bit distant, but supported her just as much as Gleam's family did. There was something a little bit off about their interview, but Temperance couldn't put her finger on what it was. The girls teachers and friends followed suit, and again that same feeling nagged her.

District 9 flashed on the screen next. It was the only district left that had both its tributes, and because of that fact (and the fact that they were both still working together), their odds have gone up. Friends and family appeared in the interview, though Maisie's mom was absent. Given that she was mentoring here in the Capitol, it was to be expected.

The first thing she saw of Ten was a field of horses, grazing on the emerald green grass. If that was where the boy from Ten was raised, she was jealous. She had been born among the crumbling buildings of Lower. Even living in Upper, she had never gotten the chance to experience the beauty of nature.

She finished up when the boys brother appeared on the screen, and turned it off before the interview got to District 12.

When she got to the luxurious dining room, she found her _uncle _wasn't alone. A man she had seen a few times on T.V. since she came here was sitting opposite Honorius, eating a cream filled pastry. The Minister of Welfare turned to her as she entered the dining room.

"Honorius, so this must be your beautiful niece." The Minister offered her a smile. "I'm Tiberius Grayson. It is my greatest honor to make your acquaintance."

"My pleasure," she answered. Temperance reached her hand out, and the Minister took it.

"I'm sorry, Temperance. The reason your uncle has been so distant has been my fault. Me and him have been working very close together. On assignment for the president."

Temperance wasn't surprised. Honorius was incredibly rich. She hadn't been living under his roof for a month yet, and she had already seen things she never thought she would have been able to. It was common sense that with his wealth and connection he would know people in the Government.

As far as she was aware Honorius wasn't actually a member of the Government. Connections and backroom deals were one thing, but actually working formally with a government Minister was not something Temperance expected.

She wanted to ask what they would be working on, but she doubted that either man would give her an answer.

"I suppose you'll be away again today, uncle?" Temperance said pleasantly. She hoped he would. She had gotten one of the servants to teach her how to drive. In Six, she never would have had a chance to own a car, much less drive one. It was only the government people who were allowed cars. In the Capitol things were different. Anyone who had the money was allowed to buy one. She wanted to get behind the wheel, and Honorius had given her more than enough money to buy one.

Honorius nodded. "Yes. I am sorry about leaving you here all alone so much, but my work is important. Me and the good minister have a very important meeting we must attend. Though I do not plan to leave you here all alone again."

Temperance frowned. She didn't like the sound of that. "What do you mean, uncle?"

Was he getting her some babysitter? The idea of someone watching her, and running her day was an annoying thought.

"I've bought you a VIP ticket to the Fiftieth Hunger Games arena."

He smiled like it was supposed to be good news. Temperance had seen Capitol citizens touring arena's on Mandatory viewing before. The idea of going to an arena, where they forced tributes to slaughter each other as a vacation made her sick. And now he wanted her to join in the game?

Temperance couldn't remember watching any reruns of the last Quell, so she had no idea on what to expect the arena to be, but she knew she didn't want to go.

"It's a week trip," Honorius continued. "I'm hoping that by the time you return, I'll be finished with my business. In the meantime, you can get out of the house and enjoy yourself."

**Katniss Everdeen**

**Co-Victor of the Seventy-Fourth Hunger Games**

When she woke up, Katniss found herself in bed. Which was surprising, because she didn't remember getting into bed the night before. She couldn't remember anything when she first came to. Her head was pounding, and she felt heavier than ever before.

The holoscreen on the other side of the room was playing the yesterdays highlights of the games. The boy from One and the girl from Two appeared to be out of breath, staring down at the bodies of two mutts that looked like two deceased tributes.

"Where's Margaret?" The girl from Two gasped between breaths.

The boy from One shook his head. "No idea. Where-"

Katniss found the remote on the desk by the bed and clicked it off. She felt horrible enough without watching the games.

She forced herself to sit up, closing her eyes when the world started to spin. Which lasted for a second before whatever was in her stomach came shooting up her throat. She turned her head to the side and threw up.

Katniss waited until the world stopped spinning before she gradually stood up. _Why am I naked? _She thought to herself. Since she had stayed in the Capitol, Katniss had been sleeping in her underwear. It happened when she was looking around the room for her clothes, which she did find on the ground, but that wasn't what caught her attention.

Laying in the same bed Katniss found herself in was another person. A very familiar girl, who she had seen on games broadcasters for three years. Johanna Mason, the victor of the Seventy-First, was in the same bed.

The day before slowly came back to her. Bits and pieces of it, anyway. She could remember her meeting, but when she tried to remember what it was about a feeling of raw pain ripped through her chest. She told the driver to pull into Paradise, and she took that rainbow drink. Everything after that was a blur. All she could remember were bits and pieces. Being in the crowd, meeting a lot of people, moving to some big house, and finally seeing Johanna in black leather. Now she woke up in bed with the girl. What the hell happened? Did she?...

No. Katniss didn't want to think about that. She grabbed her clothes off the floor, ignoring the other set across the room. Rainbow stains dotted her shirt. While putting the shirt and pants on, she realized how uncomfortably tight they were. How much skin they exposed.

_Was I wearing this? _She thought to herself.

Now the question was where the hell was she? She needed to find Haymitch, and Peeta and figure out just what had happened. There was only one door in the room, and Katniss went over and opened it.

"I never wanted this for you," the painfully familiar voice spoke as she walked into a lush hallway. The hallway was decorated in the obnoxious luxury Katniss had come to expect from the Capitol, but none of that matter in the face of what she had just heard.

Turning her head, she found him leaning against the wall. He looked sad and resigned, wearing the same clothes she had last seen him in. His voice was exactly how she remembered it. His beautiful voice could make the Mockingjay's stop and listen. Her eyes filled with tears, but despite that, his remained crystal clear.

"I never wanted you to suffer," Edric Everdeen continued. "When you and your sister were born, I wanted to shield you from the world. I didn't have the kind of power to do that. I couldn't protect you, or your mother or Primrose. What a worthless father I turned out to be."

Katniss didn't know what to say. She missed her father so much. She wanted him here right now. She wanted to be held in his strong arms. The promise of safety. When she needed them most, her words abandoned her.

"It's hard, isn't it?" Edric said after a moment of pause. "Walking down your path. I used to rage at my life back when I was your age. I hated District 12 and Panem. Your mother told me that only we can choose our path."

"It's so hard," Katniss spoke softly, the words finding her.

"It is," Edric agreed. "Sometimes, though, it's not. Sometimes it's easy. Choose the path that will make you happy."

"Happy?" Katniss repeated. Ever since Prim had been reaped, she hadn't had a lot to be happy about. The games, the murder, watching the tributes who's life she was supposed to be responsible for die... The news about Prim she desperately didn't want to think about.

"Yes. Happy." Her father repeated. "Like you are with him."

"Katniss?" Peeta's voice called, drawing her attention away from her father's phantom. He and Haymitch were standing at the end of the hallway. His expression was one of desperate concern. "Are you okay?"

"… I don't know," she admitted slowly. Katniss looked back at the wall, but Edric Everdeen was gone.

**Author's Note:**

**Hello! I hope you have enjoyed the nineteenth chapter!**

**Not a lot of tribute action going on. Since it's the final six I wanted to focus on some out of the arena action. I didn't want to go into too much detail on the interviews, since I'm not confident that I wouldn't make them all sound exactly the same haha.**


	20. Chapter 20: Arena Day 12

**Disclaimer:**

**I do not own the Hunger Games book series. It is the property of Suzanne Collins and the publisher Scholastic Press. The movies are owned by Lionsgate and other associated producers and creators. I am simply a humble fan, writing this for the enjoyment of other fans. Please support the official release.**

_Arena - Day 12_

**Temperance Hale**

**Capitol Citizen**

One of the Hale servants turned up the volume, which resulted in her giving the man a glare. Which lasted for a second, before she remembered that most of the servants in her _uncle's _house were avoxes. She couldn't bring herself to hate them, even if they lived in the Capitol.

"The idea of the haunted palace was actually mine," Plutarch Heavensbee answered, a smug smile put firmly across his fat face. "I have always been intrigued by horror. The myths and legends our ancestor's-"

Before he could get any further, Temperance clicked the holoscreen off. She didn't want to listen to the Head Gamemaker talk about the death trap he created. Soon enough she would be on her own way to another death trap.

Temperance couldn't see how she was going to avoid going on this trip, and she had resigned herself to it. When she got back to the city however, she would speak with her _uncle _about his involvement in politics, and from there she might be able to get her foot in the door.

"Remember my dear, the hovercraft leaves at twelve, so you should be at the station at least an hour early."

Temperance nodded and put the best smile she could on. It looked like a weak of hell awaited her.

**Wren Hyde**

**District 10 Male Tribute**

Through the thick brush, he glanced at the courtyard. For a moment, Wren was surprised; he knew the Careers had been camping out at the Courtyard each night. They would be stupid enough not to guard their supplies, so why was there no one here? Was it a trap?

Wren didn't see why the pack would need to set one. The games were in their final stretch. He had lost count, but there couldn't have been more than ten tributes left. Possible half that. He couldn't see a reason why they'd bother hiding a trap.

There were only two of them left. Gleam and Cassandra. He remembered watching them with the Careers in training. Gleam had run the show since the first day, and he was the one who stood out the most in Wren's mind. He recalled that the Two girl was deadly in her own right, and she did score a ten in training.

Wren didn't know if they were still working together, or if they split. Some years the pack fractured earlier, sometimes the final six were only the Careers.

Walking into the courtyard, no one jumped out at him. Nothing came from behind the golden Cornucopia. No muttations were on him. It really seemed like the Careers had abandoned camp. Which was fine with him. He hadn't eaten in a few days and he was hungry.

Digging through the Careers supplies, he found plenty of good, uneaten food. Wren ripped open a package of beef jerky and tour it open it with his teeth. The flavor wasn't particularly outstanding, but after no food it was a godsend.

He devoured it in a minute and grabbed a red apple, biting into it. Wren kept his eyes on the elaborate palace doors, ready to jump if he saw the doors open. In the worst-case scenario, there would be only two chasing him, and he had spent most of the time in the woods around the palace. He was confident enough that he could lose them.

The doors never opened, and Wren ate until his stomach was full. Gulping down the last of a water bottle full of orange juice, Wren decided he couldn't eat another bite. So instead he grabbed up some of the scattered food and full water bottles and shoved it into an empty pack. He was walking towards the gate, ready to head back to the new cave he found, when slammed shut an inch from his face.

Wren knew once it was late enough, the gate closed and didn't open until morning. That was how it had operated this whole time. Until now. In the middle of a sunny day, the gates had locked him inside.

The sound of the palace doors opening behind him made Wren jump. He turned around expecting to see at least one Career, weapons drawn. No one was there. The doors had opened on its own...

Were the Gamemaker's trying to get him to go inside? Were they trying to drive him towards the others? Well if that was the case, they had another thing coming. He was outside with plenty of supplies to last him awhile. The other tributes could come to him.

Walking back towards the Cornucopia, Wren looked inside. There was enough room for him to dig himself out a small spot. If he covered himself with supplies, no one would be able to find him.

**Cassandra Aurellius**

**District 2 Female Tribute**

"Nothing in this room either," Gleam called. She could hear the annoyance in his voice, and honestly, she couldn't blame him. First, they got locked in the palace, which had never happened before. The doors were always open upon sunrise, and now they were sealed shut, trapping them within.

Then there was the lack of food or water. Up until they were locked in, more often than not it was easy to find a meal. They'd be set up in random rooms, waiting for someone to come and eat them. Their own supplies in the Cornucopia were so plentiful because every time they hunted they always ran into food.

Many of the rooms were bathrooms or else had them attacked to other rooms. Water ran freely and it was never far. Now no water flowed. No food could be found. Which only left her with one conclusion.

"I think we're in the end games," Cassandra called.

Gleam poked his head back out the doorway. "I think you're right," Gleam agreed, walking out. His scythe rested against his shoulder. "Hey, Gloss? Any chance you or Cashmere could send us something to drink? I'm so thirsty."

He looked up at the ceiling as he said it. Cassandra was at the point of asking Enobaria the same thing. Enobaria had always liked her, even after what happened with her brother. While her parents became distant, Enobaria never followed suit.

Cassandra didn't think it would work. The very first thing a Stone class student learned in the institute when they attended their basic games preparation class was not to make demands of the mentors. They were told to listen to their mentors because the mentors have been the ones to survive the Hunger Games. They would do what was best for the tribute. The tributes, in turn, weren't supposed to make such demands.

To her surprise, the ceiling opened up and a parachute fell slowly down. Gleam reached out and caught it, ripping the chute off. He opened the metal container, revealing two water bottles, two packages of dried fruit, and a bag jerky.

Gleam gave her a cocky smile.

**Wallace Branwell**

**District 9 Male Tribute**

Maisie was sitting by the door, taking her turn for watch. He knew he should probably be getting some sleep, but his mind wouldn't stop racing. Today Romeo had attacked them, and having to kill his alley (or a mutt that looked like him, in any regard) again didn't make him feel better.

Wallace wanted to go home. He wanted to lay down in his bed, in his small room, in his small house. He wanted to see his little brother, his mother, and his father. He wanted to be back in Nine, as far away from the Capitol as possible. He'd give up all the luxury if he could just go home.

He wanted to take Maisie with him. She didn't deserve to be here. Like him, she should be back home in Nine. The Capitol could take its Hunger Games and go to hell. Panem would be better off without the city full of parasites. It wasn't enough for them to take their food, or whatever else the districts produced. No, they had to take children as well, bring them across the country and force them to kill each other for the sick entertainment of the people in the Capitol.

Even if he was the one who got to go home, would his parents be happy to take him back? He wasn't going to get out of the arena without blood on his hands.

The sound of trumpets started him out of his bed. By the door, Maisie's head snapped up, and she looked over at him. His eyes met hers and Wallace could see his partner sag in relief.

"Attention tributes, attention," Claudius Templesmith's voice echoed through the arena. "Tomorrow a feast will be held in the great hall of the palace. The very first room you entered when going through the doors. Before any of you refuse my invitation, I should warn you that by tomorrow, the feast will be the only place in the arena with food or water. That is all."

The sound of trumpets, and then everything went quiet.

**Author's Note:**

**Hello! I hope you have enjoyed the twentieth chapter!**

**So, our shortest chapter yet! Sorry about that. The next chapter is the final arena chapter, and I have a feeling it's going to be the longest one yet. I normally like to keep my chapters between 3k and 7k. On my other stories, I might like chapters on the longer side, but for this fic I've been favoring 3k to 4k. The next chapter will most likely blow the length of everything else (on this story) out of the water.**

**Before anyone asks, I actually have another account I write other stories on. In that account, I'll most likely have different Hunger Games fics put up there eventually. I created this account specifically for all the stories in the verse I'm creating here. Any Hunger Games stories posted here will be a part of this verse stories.**

**In fact, after this fic is done, I'll be having multiple sequels. Other SYOT stories in this verse. Other stories focusing on events not directly involved in the games (such as the rebellion or Victor Tours, or weddings *hint hint*) I have a lot planned in this verse, and I hope you'll all continue to read (even the non SYOT stories haha)**

**So, we're almost at the end. Two more chapters after this one. I'll be posting the next chapter Thursday and the final chapter next week.**

**A special thanks to timijaf, my constant reviewer!**


	21. Chapter 21: Arena Day 13

**Disclaimer:**

**I do not own the Hunger Games book series. It is the property of Suzanne Collins and the publisher Scholastic Press. The movies are owned by Lionsgate and other associated producers and creators. I am simply a humble fan, writing this for the enjoyment of other fans. Please support the official release.**

_Arena - Day 13_

**Wren Hyde**

**District 10 Male Tribute**

When the announcement had been made the night before, he had been under the assumption that he was in the best possible spot. All the food and water in the palace would be removed from the games, leaving only him with his supplies. Wren was planning on getting as much food and water, hiking it out to the cave, before destroying the rest. If it meant going home, he'd stave the other tributes.

That was his plan. When he woke up, the supplies he had buried himself under were gone. When he went to sleep, he was completely hidden from view. Now waking up, the Cornucopia was empty.

Leaving him exposed. Wren jumped up and looked out, hoping to see an empty courtyard. The gate might still be closed, but he could hide behind the Cornucopia, and wait for the bloodshed to end, and jump the weakened winner.

Following the same trend of his luck, Wren found he wasn't alone. Though perhaps luckily, the only other person wasn't a Career. It was the blond boy from District 12, his blues staring at Wren. They reminded him so much of his brothers.

When he raised his arms, Wren caught sight of what he held. It looked like a bastardized version of the guns the Peacekeepers always had on their person.

_Where the hell did he get that? _Wren thought, throwing up his hands. "Wait. Don't shoot!"

If it looked like a gun, then it might really be a gun. If it was, Wren would like it best if he avoided getting shot.

"Don't shoot? Why?" The blue-eyed boy asked. If this was any other place, Wren would have tried to appeal to his sense of decency, but it had been Katniss Everdeen who summed it up best. He had heard her say it during her tour of Ten when he was hired as wait staff for her party. _No one decent ever wins the games._

"Listen, there are other tributes still around. Two Careers," Wren said, trying for the pragmatic approach. "Even with that gun, they still trained their whole lives for this. They're not just going to drop dead. I can help you."

"You can help me? How?"

"I can draw fire from you. Keep them from focusing all their attention on you. It would put the odds in our favor."

"The odds are _never _in our favor!" Twelve hissed. The gun was still pointed at him, and Wren began to wonder if this was the end of the line for him. Is he going to be gunned down by a tribute from Twelve in the Cornucopia? Was this how far he was going to make it?

To Wren's surprised, Twelve slowly lowered the gun. "I think you're right though. Only the two of use. Allies until we're the last ones standing."

At which point Twelve would be free to gun him down. "Deal," Wren agreed. It gave him time to try and work out a plan to survive. If they both ended up the finale two, he had to find some way to keep Twelve from killing him with that weapon.

**Cassandra Arellius**

**District 2 Female Tribute**

She finished cleaning the blood of the blade, discarding the stained rang on the floor by the bed. Cassandra had a feeling this was going to be her last day in the arena, one way or another. There was no more food or water, assuring that the tributes would be forced to go to the feast. Which meant they'd all be in one place at the same time. Another blood bath to end these games.

The doors opened and Gleam walked in, leaning on the door frame. His scythe rested peacefully on his shoulder. In the safety of her head, Cassandra could admit the boy from One was beautiful. He was the single most handsome boy she had ever laid eyes on, per the norm of his district. Holding the scythe like that, Gleam looked like the grim reaper, waiting to take the souls of the dead to the underworld. Well, if there was an afterlife.

"Are you ready?" Gleam asked. Cassandra noticed right away that he lacked the cocky smile that he had worn all the whole time she had known him. At that moment, the boy from One looked tired. More tired than she had ever seen him.

"Yes." She wanted to ask him if he was alright, but she decided that it didn't matter right now. Not so close to the end.

She stood up and Gleam mimicked her motion. "How do you want to handle this? Traditional rules?"

Tradition among the pack dictated that they stay together until the field numbers were cut down low enough. Usually, when the pack was whittled down to two, they worked together until it came down to them. Cassandra didn't know if she had the skills to take him out, but she was willing to stake her life on her skills.

"I'll make your end quickly," she said in way of agreement.

Gleam smiled at her but didn't say anything.

This would be her last day. She would either be dead or a Victor by tomorrow. If she won, would her parents finally forgive her? Would the district. She couldn't remember any Victors in Two being hated.

**Dionysus Whitmore**

**Cadet at Institute for Peace and Prosperity**

He finished the form with a flick of his wrists. It might have been a blunted sword in his hands, but that didn't mean being hit by them wasn't painful. While Dionysus knew he'd be feeling the welts tomorrow, he had made sure the three practice trainers had gotten the worst end of the stick.

Semele, the head instructor for the placement examination, watching him expressionlessly. Her cold blue eyes bore into his, and Dionysus had to wonder what she was thinking. He and his brother were the best of the males in their year, and he wasn't afraid of not getting the promotion. His skills spoke for themselves. But Semele had been a pain in his backside since his brother and he had been plucked off the snowy streets by the Peacekeepers.

"Congratulations," Semele finally said. She grabbed a bronze tag from the table and held it up. "You've officially been promoted to Bronze Rank. Hand in your stone tag."

Inwardly, Dionysus breathed a sigh of relief. He kept the cocky grin plastered on his face as he swaggered up to her desk. He took the tag (literally made of the heavy stone mined in the quarries) from his neck, setting it in his pocket, taking the other from her hand. Putting it around his neck, Dionysus couldn't help but think it looked a lot better than the stone tag.

He passed Diana on his way out, and the blew him a kiss. He turned around to watch her ass as she walked through the doors. Like him and his brother, she was at the top of the girls in their year. Plus she filled out nicely.

His brother Bacchus was waiting for him. Dionysus lifted the bronze tag from behind his shirt, showing it off proudly. Bacchus mimicked his grin, showing off an identical bronze tag.

"Come on. We better get to the viewing room," Bacchus called.

Dionysus looked back at the door. "I was planning to wait-"

Bacchus snorted. "On Diana? Really? You know she isn't going to give you a second look. Not unless you've been hiding a pair of tits from me."

Dionysus' hand reached out and pushed his brother. "You don't believe the rumors, do you?"

Bacchus was his twin brother, and ever bid as good as him, so he easily regained his balance. "I don't know man. I'm just saying, Aron swears he saw her making out with Selene. Cupping a feel the way I hear it."

Dionysus didn't care for the lecherous grin crossing his brother's face. "Aron is constantly horny. He spends more time gawking at the girls than training. It's why he's still stone."

It was embarrassing enough for someone in the Thirteenth Cohort to be held back. Dionysus' cohort.

"Whitmore!" Athena Grayson's voice snapped. Dionysus silently cursed as she snapped to attention. The Head Mistress glared down at him and Bacchus, her eyes narrowing. "Mandatory viewing is about to begin. You had better get to your assigned viewing room quickly. You can't afford to miss it."

That was true. The rumor was abuzz through the Institute that today was probably going to be the last day in the arena. The feast would make sure of that. Which meant tomorrow, normally classes would be suspended, and they'd be going over every moment of it. If for some reason he hadn't watched the finale, his instructors would assign him a week in one of the work camps. Minimum rations, long labor hours, and a hard bed to sleep on.

"Yes, ma'am!" His brother said quickly. He followed Bacchus' lead and saluted her.

The Head Mistress nodded and walked past them. It wasn't the first time Dionysus had seen her up close, and it wasn't the first time his desire to ask about her father swelled up inside him. Achilles Grayson was the very first Victor the Hunger Games ever had. He had won and spent ten years trying to convince President Summers that a training school for tributes would provide more entertainment. He eventually got his wish, and the Institute for Peace and Prosperity was founded.

"Come on. I sure as hell ain't getting sent to a camp!" Bacchus hissed, grabbing Dionysus' arm and pulling him down the hallway.

**Wallace Branwell**

**District 9 Male Tribute**

"Here. Take this," he said, handing over the dagger to Maisie. He could see the sunlight streaming through the windows, and knew the feast wasn't far off. "We should get moving."

When he looked back at her, Maisie was staring at the dagger's blade. It was spotless and clear, enough to see her reflection. Maisie hadn't killed anyone yet, and though he could say the same, he was prepared to end a life. He had found and killed that thing that looked like Romeo many times, and despite hardly knowing him, it hurt. Right now he was so close to getting home. A few tributes left...

Wallace focused his gaze at Maisie. His weakness.

He had debated about killing her in his head every night. She knew planets and fruits, but in the palace, it wasn't as useful as it might have been in an outdoor arena. If anything, she was a drain on him, taking resources. Using him for protection. That wasn't a very fair arrangement.

He had also played with the thought of abandoning her. Surely a mutt or another tribute would kill her. Take it off of his hands. He wouldn't be blamed for leaving his district partner.

If it came down to just the two of them, District 9 would only accept him killing her if they were the final two. Then, and only then, could such a sin be forgiven?

But the longer he stayed with her, the more Wallace had come to realize that he didn't have it in him. He wasn't cold-blooded enough to kill her. He liked her. She had been with him since the beginning. Against all commonly accepted logic where the games were concerned, he had come to care for her. He never had any siblings, and he privately wondered if maybe having Maisie around was what it felt like to have a little sister.

A little sister that he would die for. He wouldn't let any of the other tributes kill her. If it came down to just the two of them, Wallace had already made his choice. She was the one going to be going home, not him.

**Amelia Rosale**

**Victor of the Sixty-First Hunger Games**

Trajan Mayhew was one of her best _customers_. He had only been a young man, barely out of the throngs of puberty, when he had first purchased her. Trajan had been the first one to have her, but he was hardly the last. Amelia couldn't go one time coming to the Capitol without the Minister of Education calling her to his bed-chamber. Even now, with her daughter's life on the line, President Snow made clear that she was to go let him have his way with her, or else a fix would be made against Maisie. It would only take one call to Plutarch Heavensbee to make sure she never stepped foot back out of that arena.

It was lucky for her that Trajan was such a fan of the Games. Not even having her here would distract him from the excitement of watching the finale live.

Trajan rolled over from his spot on top of her, breathing heavily. His died-green body glistened with sweat. "You are always great, my dear. But the feast should be starting soon, and we wouldn't want to miss it. I'll get one of the avoxes to bring us up some wine."

_If only I could tell them to take you away_, she thought hatefully. Being forced to smile and lay down next to the man who forced himself on her the year after she got out of the arena made dredged up that all to familiar hate. What she wanted right then was a scolding hot shower, so she could rub her skin raw, and try to get the sensation of his touch out of her mind.

"Where is Pompey?" She asked, keeping her voice casual.

"My brother is watching the games at his house. Said he couldn't make it this year. Some personal business," he told her.

It was like a knife to the heart. More than anything, she wanted the man she loved to be with her right now. Not that she could express that love in front of Trajan, least he makes sure she never saw him again. Unlike his horrid brother, Pompey wasn't a bad man. If it were under any other circumstance, he would be here. Doing his best to keep Trajan away from her, but this year it would be too hard on him. Their daughter was fighting for her life in the arena, and no thirteen years old had ever won the games.

**Rye Mellark**

**District 12 Male Tribute**

Rye wasn't about to trust his impromptu ally. It was clear Ten didn't want to die, but Rye was going to be the one to make it home. He didn't hold any grudge against his ally, but when it came down to it, winning the games was important. He remembered last year when Katniss and Peeta came home. Twelve was showered with food and gifts all year long.

He and Ten hid behind the golden Cornucopia and waited. He thought of home as he tried to pass the time. The scents of the bakery, his father's warm smile, his old brother's infectious laugh, Peeta's good-natured jabbing. Rye couldn't believe he had been jealous of Peeta when he came back. He had so much money, and if Rye won, so would he. But after going through the games, making as far as he did, Rye realized that it wasn't worth it. No amount of denarii would ever make this okay.

The sound of metal grating against metal pulled him from his thoughts. He turned to look at Ten, seeing the other boy just as startled as he was. Rye poked his head around the Cornucopia and was surprised to see a table sitting in the middle of the courtyard. It hadn't been there when Rye came out, and he guessed the sound was the gamemaker's putting it where it needed to go.

The table was littered with steaming food, and crystal clear water. Rye caught a whiff of the smell, and his stomach rumbled. His mouth started to water, and he was half tempted to make a run for it before he remembered how stupid that would be. The feast was here, and that meant the other tributes would be here soon.

"Hey," Ten whispered to him. Rye turned back to look at him. "I'm going to run for it. See if I grab some quick."

Rye bit his lip, about to tell him it was a stupid move. Then again, if Ten was fast enough, he might be able to make it before any of the other tributes came. Plus Rye was hungry.

He reluctantly nodded. Rye watched as Ten sprinted out from their hiding place, running up to the table. He cursed the other boy when he watched him take a mouth full of the roasted pig, but he seemed to be grabbing plates of food.

Ten had just turned around when a knife came flying through the air, out of the archway leading into the palace. He managed to duck and avoid it, but the last two Careers sprinted out of the building. For a moment Rye wondered if they had also been lying in wait.

Rye sprinted out from his spot behind the Cornucopia and leveled his gun at the girl. She must have caught sight of him because she turned to engage. Rye pulled the trigger, and shards of glass and metal bits shot towards her. It gave him a small amount of pleasure to see her bloodstain her clothes from the spot he shot her. He pulled the trigger again, but she turned back in the blink of an eye and ducked behind the open palace door.

"GLEAM!" She yelled. "HE HAS A GUN!"

The handsome Career boy broke off his attack and turned to look at him. Rye made the mistake of taking his eyes off where the girl was, to turn his gun. Before he could fire off another round, he felt something sink into the skin of his shoulder. The girl from Two had thrown a knife, and it found it's mark.

She bolted from her spot and sprinted towards him, drawing her sword. Another knife stopped him from firing, and when she was to close, he let the gun fall to his side, the strap keeping it in place. He pulled a knife from his belt and slashed at her. He cut into her face, a line of red below the eyes. It didn't slow her down and Rye felt the blade of her sword cutting through his chest.

It hurt more than any beating he had ever taken from his mother, and he bit down to avoid screaming. She was already set in for her next strike, raising her sword, when she pulled back.

As she moved out of his field of site, Rye caught the boy from Nine swinging a long sharp weapon at her back. She ducked under it and seemed to be ready to go on the offensive when Rye grabbed the gun. He pointed it at her and fired another round of glass. He had hoped to get her, but the Career girl moved like a cat, managed to avoid being hit a second time. She turned around, disappearing behind the door into the palace.

"Hey!" Nine called from his side. Rye turned in time to catch him a lot closer than he could have liked. The boy's blade was held firmly in his hand, and Rye wouldn't be able to move out of the way before he could swing it. "Truce. Just until the Careers are dead?"

Which worked out perfectly for Rye. The boy wouldn't attack him when he had the chance. "Done," he answered quickly.

Nine gave a single nod before he sprinted towards Ten and One. Seeing as One would be facing off against two tributes, Rye booked it towards the palace. Running through the doors, he held his gun up. His finger held tight against the trigger, and his eyes roamed the large room. It was empty.

He was just about to give up and head back outside to help deal with One when he heard the sound of footsteps behind him. Rye turned around just in time to see Two run from her hiding spot behind the golden doors.

Her sword sank into his stomach before he could stop her. The pain ripped through his body and that time he couldn't stop himself from screaming. Somehow it got worse when she pulled it from his stomach. The spot where the blade went through was like white-hot pain, sending ripples to the rest of his body.

The pain overwhelmed him and Rye fell to his knees in front of her. He saw her slash through the air, watching his blood fly off the blade. "Sorry, Twelve. I'd like to make a show out of you, but I have other targets-"

The rest of her sentence was cut off with a scream. A knife came flying out from behind the closest crystal staircase, embedding itself within her eye socket. Two pulled back, grabbing the embedded knife.

Rye wanted to take advantage of the situation, but his body felt so heavy. It was a struggle to lift his arm, and the more he moved, the more pain shot through him.

Something ran right by him, taking the gun out of his hands. He turned his head to see the little girl from Nine point his gun at Two and pulled the trigger. Glass and metal shot out, hitting her right in the chest. The little girl unloaded everything into the Career, and Two eventually fell over backward. Rye didn't know if she was dead, but he hoped.

The girl looked at him. "It's empty."

Rye had more makeshift clips in his pocket, but he wasn't going to tell her. If he could just ignore the pain and get his body to move, he might still be able to win. He might be able to go home and see his family.

When he didn't say anything, hurled the gun across the room. "I'm sorry," she whispered, before turning on her heels. He saw her run out of the doors, but she didn't escape unharmed. Two, with seemingly her last bit of strength, threw one of her knives through the air. It sank into Nine's shoulder, electing a scream from her.

Rye turned slowly to look at Two. She met his eyes, staring right at him. "I can... Finally, see... Eitan again... And tell him how sorry I am..."

Rye didn't know who Eitan was. Was she talking to him? She didn't speak again.

The pain was getting even worse, and Rye was struggling to keep his eyes open. His vision blurred and he began pulling himself across the ground, to the spot the girl had thrown his gun.

When the darkness overtook his vision, Rye heard a cannon boom. He didn't know if it was his or the girl from Two.

**Peeta Mellark**

**Co-Victor of the Seventy-Fourth Hunger Games**

Peeta couldn't take his eyes off Rye's personal feed. There his brother lay, bleeding out all over the ground, and Peeta was sat far away in the lap of luxury, watching him die.

While he couldn't be there for his brother, Peeta was still a mentor, which meant there was something he could do. District 12 still had three million denarii in its account, and while the gifts were astronomically expensive right now, he had an astronomical amount of money.

He dragged Rye's feed to the corner of the screen, clicking on the games store icon. It opened before him and Peeta quickly touched the medicine icon. He scrolled the list, reading the descriptions of each one as fast as he could, cursing the Capitol right now. Haymitch was with Vivian Ramirez, the Victor of the first Quarter Quell. They were stuck with Caesar and Templesmith commenting. As the last two Quell Victor's, Peeta had been told the opportunity not to have them in the studio was too great to pass up. Right now he could really use Haymitch's help.

He found exactly what he was looking for halfway down. A pink cream that will close open wounds in minutes, and has pain suppressors made into it. It couldn't be a long term solution for Rye's stab wound, but it would hopefully hold long enough for him to get to his gun. If he could wait out the final battle, he could shoot the winner.

He pressed the purchase option, but a red exclamation mark appeared as his terminal beeped. He pressed purchase again to the same result. "What?" Peeta hissed, slamming his hands against the terminal.

The room he was in was empty. Beetee and Wires left long ago when Rance died, and Haymitch was in his interview. He was considering seeing if one of the other Victor's would be willing to help him when he remembered he had a direct line to Gamemaker control.

Peeta pressed the store screen, sliding it to the side. He jammed his thumb against the green G icon, and a victor link opened. A woman in a purple rob appeared, eating what Peeta had come to recognize as a

"Mr. Mellark," the Gamemaker answered smoothly over the link. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Something's wrong with the store," he told her, making sure he didn't speak too fast. "I keep trying to buy Rye medicine, but it's not working."

To his shock, she was smiling. "Ah yes. This happens almost every year to the Victor's. Well, when their tributes make it the end. There is nothing wrong with the store, Mr. Mellark. You no longer have the authority to purchase anything-"

"What?" He yelled, his temper getting the better of him. His brother was dying there on the ground, and Peeta had the money for the two million denarii small tub of medicine. It'd nearly whip him out, but he could get it!

"Yes. You see, people in the districts, even here in the Capitol if you can believe it, seem to have a misconception of the games. While we allow mentors to buy sponsor gifts if they have the money, it is a privilege. One that can be, and is every year, taken away. You see, Mr. Mellark, the Hunger Games are a show. Entertainment. When the games have a narrative going, we will sometimes prevent gifts. If we didn't, well let's just say there would be more alliance Victors than normal, with the amount of finical support they get."

"What?" Was all he said. He understood the words, but his mind didn't see how they were connected. The words were leading him somewhere...

"Allowing the transfer of that medicine might change the narrative, Mr. Mellark. Right now that narrative is a final battle between the tributes. A struggle of life or death. The winner of the Hunger Games must earn it, not accept it at the hands of well-financed mentors, you understand. Rye played a very good game. For a first-year mentor, so did you, but I can only offer my condolence of your loss. Happy Hunger Games, Mr. Mellark. Better luck next year."

The Gamemaker had the nerve to smile at him before the feed was cut. Rye's stream extended to full size, and Peeta was left to watch helplessly as his brother slowly side. His vitals entering the red, before finally flat-lining.

**Gleam Delmas**

**District 1 Male Tribute**

The boy from Ten was more of a nuisance than he had thought the outlier would be. Still, it was clear to him that Ten wasn't anything special. He had no training, and though he seemed to be good at dodging Gleam's scythe, he couldn't keep it up forever.

Ten ducked below his scythe swing, and that was his first mistake. Gleam swung the blade left and lifted his leg, kicking Ten in the chest. The boy tumbled back and that was the end of him. Gleam was only a few inches from killing him when a smaller scythe came at him from the left.

He stepped back to avoid the swing and wasn't please at all when he saw it was the Nine boy. Gleam hissed and cocked his free hand, smashing his fist into the other boys nose.

Ten recovered quickly and attacked, but he was sloppy and Gleam was able to step out of his way. Since they had started going at it, Ten's movements began to slow. He was losing steam. If it wasn't for Nine, the boy wouldn't be a problem.

Nine came at him again, and Gleam brought up the scythe to deflect the smaller one. Gleam raised his foot, kicking Nine in his side. The boy winced and dropped his arm. Gleam swung his scythe for the kill, only to stop a few inches from Nine's neck when Ten threw his knife.

Gleam sneered at the two, pulling back. Where the hell was Cassandra. _It would be a lot easier if she was here, _Gleam thought. It would be a lot easier if he never volunteered in the first place. A little too late to complain considering how far he came.

As he kicked in Ten's knee, Gleam wondered if his family was proud. Or if they hated seeing him murder. Contrary to popular belief, not everyone in his district approved of the games. His father had raged against them almost as much as he had against Fortune.

None of his sisters cared much for them as well, though they were a shallow lot. More interested in social status and clothes than the national sport.

Nine moved in with a swing of his blade before Gleam could kill Ten, but he had enough of them both. He knocked Nine's weapon out of the way, quickly uppercutted him. A swift kick to his chest sent him stumbling back.

From the corner of his vision, Gleam saw Ten coming. Moving as fast as he could, he swung his scythe towards the other boy, catching his neck. In one swoop, Ten's neck fell from his body.

A cannon sounded but Gleam had no time to consider what he had gone. Nine tried to ram into him, but Gleam moved back a step, letting the boy run by him. Flipping around so Gleam was behind him, he kicked the back of Nine's knee, forcing him to the ground. Gleam raised his scythe, prepared to take another head and get that much closer to getting out of the hell he found himself in.

The searing pain in his side stopped him. "Enculer!" He yelled. Gleam looked over at his right side, finding the sight of the girl from Nine, her knife deep in his skin. Gleam pulled his hand back and punched her as hard as he could.

"Salope!"

As she went down, her partner roared and Gleam turned around just in time to see Nine's fist connect with his. Before he could recover his balance, Nine's cut deeply through his chest. The knife in his side was nothing compared to that small scythe.

Gleam dropped his scythe and grabbed Nine's head, pulling the boy down to the courtyard floor. He smashed Nine's head against the stone as hard as he could. One. Twice. Three times. Nine stopped moving, the pool of blood below his head expanding.

Gleam collapsed at his side, the pain shooting through his chest. He looked down at the wound, and could only see his shirt stained red with blood. While he couldn't see the damage, he certainly could see it. Training to stand up only caused him almost to blackout. His arms felt like stone. There was no way he was going to survive it. Not without immediate medical, which he would only get by winning. He knew for certain there was one more tribute.

As another cannon boomed, the girl from Nine slowly approached him. The space around her eyes already starting to darken. Blood leaked from her eye itself, and he could see the red stain on her shoulder. She might be in bad condition, but she'd outlive him. He was sure of it.

"Hey. Kid," he managed to ground out. Talking somehow made the pain feel even worse, a feat he didn't know was possible. "Can you do me a favor?"

The girl narrowed her eyes. She brought a knife up, holding it tightly in both hands. "What could I do for you?" She nearly sneered.

"Nothing that I'd like," Gleam admitted. "I don't think I have long, and you're not a doctor. Listen, can you please kill me."

He could see the shock written on her face, the anger draining away. "What? Don't you want to live?"

He laughed, which made the pain spike, turning it into a scream. Shortly afterward, he hurled up his blood, the coppery taste filling his mouth. "Of course I do, but unless you're willing to die for me, I'm not going to survive this. Even if I could stand up, I don't think I have the energy to kill you... I am going to die. I'd rather go out quickly than sit here waiting for it. It hurts so much... Please, just end it."

**Maisie Rosale**

**District 9 Female Tribute**

She looked down at the broken boy who had once led the Career pack. When she saw him fight, he looked like a demon, swinging his scythe around like it weighed nothing. Now so close to death, he looked small, tired and scared.

Could she do it? Kill him? She had attacked Two, but she hadn't stayed around to watch the Career girl die. Her death would haunt Maisie enough without watching it. She didn't want to see someone die. She didn't want to kill them...

But the boy in front of her, not the most of a Career he had been, was asking for it. To be put out of his pain. If she was lying dead on the ground, only asking for her misery to end, Maisie hoped someone would have the kindness to do it.

She nodded and walked towards him, leaning down at his side. She slowly brought the knife above him, holding it over his head.

"You can hate me for this, Gleam. I will too."

As she said it, Maisie knew it was true. She'd hate herself for it. Gleam would never leave her, not really, and it was what she deserved.

Maisie brought the blade down, cutting into his neck. "One day, I'm sure I will be punished," she whispered to herself. Gleam smiled at her and Maisie watched the light leave his eyes. A cannon boomed.

"Ladies and Gentlemen! I am proud to present the Victor of the Seventy-Fifth Annual Hunger Games! Maisie Rosale! I give you your tribute from District 9!"

**Author's Note:**

**I hope you have enjoyed the twenty-first chapter!**

**I think this is the most characters I've killed in one chapter. Now that most of them are dead, I'm kind of sad. You didn't get to read a lot of my original work before it got deleted, but I really got into writing each of them. They've all grown on me, and now that they're dead, it's hitting me that I won't get the chance to write them again...**

**Well, maybe one more chance. But you'll just have to wait to see what that statement means until the next chapter.**

**Anyway, folks, there it is. The end of the third Quarter Quell. I can't say I'm completely satisfied with how it ended (RIP my poor deleted chapters), but this was the end game for a while now. Just took another path to get there.**

**Congratulations to Maisie Rosale, the Victor of the Third Quarter Quell.**


	22. Chapter 22: After Games

**Disclaimer:**

**I do not own the Hunger Games book series. It is the property of Suzanne Collins and the publisher Scholastic Press. The movies are owned by Lionsgate and other associated producers and creators. I am simply a humble fan, writing this for the enjoyment of other fans. Please support the official release.**

_After Games_

**Maisie Rosale**

**Victor of the Seventy-Fifth Hunger Games**

The hovercraft materialized over her head, eclipsing the sun. A single ladder extended down from the ship, in sharp contrast to last year. She put her foot on the bottom rung of the ladder, grabbing a higher one with both hands. As soon as she made contact, she could feel the electric current freeze her in place.

Her eyes were looking down when she froze, allowing her an aerial view of the arena as she was pulled up. The flawless white palace gleamed over the tranquil looking forward. Had she not survived in the hell that it really was, Maisie would have no idea of the horrors that lurked beneath. As the doors closed behind her, she thought it was a perfect representation of the Capitol. Spotless and beautiful on the outside, rotten and horrible under the surface.

When she got into the hovercraft, the current stopped. She stumbled forwards, only just barely able to stop herself from falling. Before she knows it, a team of doctors surrounded her, in sterile white masks and gloves. They grab her arms, poking and prodding her body.

Maisie forgets that she's out of the arena. That she's no longer in the Hunger Games. These white-clad creatures are mutts out to kill her and she starts struggling wildly when she felt the code prick of a needle.

The next thing she's aware of is waking up in a bed. Slowly opening her eyes, she's met with yellow lights shining down from her on the ceiling. Slowly turning her head, Maisie finds herself in a room with no windows or doors. Just the single bed in the middle of a white room, a machine situated by her bed. It connected to her arm, but for the life of her she couldn't figure out what it was doing there.

It was only when she tried to sit up that she noticed the restraints on her arms and legs. Maisie began to breathe heavily, trying to pull at the straps keeping her down. No matter how hard she yanked them remained firmly in place, only causing her more panic.

Only when the wall opens up to reveal a white-clad servant (an avox, she remembers), did she finally calm down. _I'm not in the arena, _she thought to herself. _I must be back in the Capitol._

The avox set a tray of food down across her knees. He pressed a button on the side of her bed, and the straps keeping her down released. Maisie was set up, staring at the silent man, but he only pointed towards her food before he vanished back through the open door. When it closed, there was no sign that it was anything but a wall.

A spoon was sat perfectly by a bowl of clear broth, with only a few vegetables floating around in it. A single piece of the long fancy bread was by its side and a glass of crystal clear water. She spent a moment wondering why they hadn't given her more (she was hungry) when she remembered Caesar commenting last year at the end of the game. He said Katniss and Peeta would have to hold off on the rich food until their bodies adjusted, having spent nearly eighteen years in the forest arena. If that was true for them, Maisie didn't know why it applied to her. She spent the last however long in a palace, feasting on the finest food the Capitol had to offer. She doubted any other tribute in the history of the games ate as well as her, Wallace and Romeo did-

Maisie cut herself off when her allies entered her mind. She forced them out of her head if only to push away the ice-cold feeling of dread that ripped through the pit of her stomach. It threatened to explode and she didn't know if she could deal with the fallout.

Right now her mother and Aaron were somewhere on the outside, making preparations for her victory ceremony. Lloyd would be arranging and creating the clothes she was going to be wearing for her life as a Victor. District 9 was probably setting up for her return home, getting one of the empty houses in Victor's Village set up for her. She wouldn't be allowed to live at her mother's house anymore. The Capitol practically demanded that Victors were to live in the houses assigned to them. Not any other.

For a moment, the idea of living up in her house all alone scared her more than the arena.

She finished the broth and bread, which turned out to be harder than Maisie thought at first, but it didn't satisfy her either. She looked around the room, but couldn't find anything to call for someone. Instead, she pushed the empty trey of food off her bed, manners that her mother had drilled into her head gone completely. She had just come out of the Hunger Games. That should give her a pass. At least for a while.

As soon as she set the glass down on the floor, a cold liquid shot into her through the tubes and she felt herself passing out.

The pattern continued for longer than she could have liked. Wake up, eat, and then back to sleep. It wasn't until the third or fourth meal that she realized her eye and the wound on her shoulder didn't hurt anymore.

The scratches and scars across her arms began to disappear slowly, each time she woke up she seemed to have fewer. Color gradually began to return to the pale skin on her arms, and each time she woke up she felt stronger than before.

Maisie didn't know how long she had been in the cycle, but one day it finally ended. When she woke up, the IV was no longer in her arm. The trey of food was filled with bacon and piles of scrambled eggs, which she dug into.

Her skin nearly glowed before her eyes, incredibly soft to the touch. It was unnatural how soft it felt.

The fabric had been placed neatly on a small desk that hadn't been there the last time she was awake. Maisie gently got out of bed, discarding the hospital gown. A simple brown dress was waiting for her.

The door opens before she's even finished tying the shoes. Maisie stepped into a long, white hallway, which appeared to lack any doors. She assumed it was the same way her room had been."Hello?"

She called out into the empty hallway, not expecting an answer.

"Maisie?" A voice calls back, sending a shiver down her spine. She turned to look at the end of the hallway, where a large circular room was located. Running to it, she caught sight of her mother, arms wide open. Maisie launched herself into them, feeling the familiar warmth wrapped as her mother embraced her. "My sweet girl. My brave, strong little girl!"

Her mother's arms constricted around her, and Maisie started feeling the tears falling down her face.

She didn't know how long she stayed in her mother's embrace, but the polite sound of a cough pulled her back into reality. Reluctantly she pulled away from her mother.

Her stylist Napoleon Arc grinned at her, his golden hair cascading around his head like a lion's mane, smiles. She returned it with a watery smile of her own. He was decent, as far as people in the Capitol went. It was his first year as a stylist, but he excelled in her parade and interview outfit. He was also one of Cinna's only three apprentices, which was the reason he was offered the Nine stylist position despite being a nobody.

District 9's escort, Lloyd Goldberg, was actually smiling at her. Since she had been reaped, all that her escort did was remind her that she needed to hold herself to a higher standard whilst in the Capitol, as she was just some random girl from the district lucky enough to be chosen. He often had his nose upturned, and his looks always came with a reproachful sneer. All of that was gone, and Maisie was surprised to find him actually smiling for a change. He didn't even say anything about how a Victor should be more dignified.

Napoleon and Lloyd each hug her tightly, whispering good how proud they were of her.

"Go with Napoleon, honey. He still has to do your hair and make-up," her mother said.

Maisie knew what was coming. The final interview. Being forced to watch an edited cut of the games. It was going to be in her near future, but right then she didn't care. All Maisie wanted to think about was at that moment, reunited with her mother. She remembered climbing into the launch tube. She hadn't believed she would ever see her mother again.

Napoleon gently put his hand on her back and guided her away from the room. Down a newly opened passage, and to an elevator.

It leads her back to a familiar room. The tribute center walls are blacked out, game guards stationed at every corner. As Napoleon led her inside, imagines of Wallace, Romeo, and the other twenty-one tributes flash through her mind. As the elevator climbs up, Maisie wonders if the dead will ever truly rest, or if they'll follow her out of the arena to haunt her for the rest of her life.

Her prep team meets them on the Ninth floor and they're all so excited to see her again. Maisie makes her best effort to smile, but she's too overwhelmed by them to do anything else. They stick to her like a pack of hungry wolves.

Napoleon gives the order to have me brought to the dining room, and she's given another meal. Roast pig, soft rolls, and vegetables in a creamy sauce. Maybe it was just the euphoria of her winning, but they taste better than anything she ever had.

They don't give her a second helping though, the staff wanting to make sure it didn't come back on stage. Finally, they pull her to the room she stayed in as a tribute, and she was told to strip. Maisie had long since gotten over being naked in front of these four people. While all her prep team was women, Lloyd certainly wasn't, but she no longer feared him seeing her exposed. He had been a bedrock during her time in the pre-games, and from that experience, she certainly called him a friend. His eyes ran over her body, but like every other time he looked at her, it was nothing but a professional looking at what he had to work with.

They help her work the shower, and she's left to soak for a good while. The hot water feels good on her skin. Napoleon left the room soon after, but she knew it would be back before long. Her hair and make-up began even before she left the bath tube, and by the time she stepped out, her clothes were waiting for her. She found a midnight blue shirt with white buttons, a matching skirt (not even going down to her knees. Really. Did the Capitol have no concept of modesty? Not that she secretly minded terribly much), and a pair of red shoes.

"I hope you don't mind. I picked them personally," Napoleon said as he came back in.

Maisie smiled at him, grabbing the shirt. "Not at all."

Maisie and Napoleon take the elevator down to the level the tributes trained at. It was customary for the new Victor's support staff to raise from below the stage, followed by said Victor. Maisie is left in the arena below the stage they will all come out at. Her prep team, escort, stylist and mentor.

They all offer her more quiet congratulations. Honestly, she didn't quite know how to feel about all the praise when she had murdered two tributes to get to where she was.

Maisie was led to a metal circle and told to wait. Her team disappeared, and she was left with only her thoughts. Which was the last thing she wanted. All her thoughts were about the dead, and she imagined the dead didn't like her that much.

Though she was dreading what was to come like there was no tomorrow, it passed in a blur. She rose to the stage after her mother, to the blinding lights and the deafening roar of the crowd. She bowed, got to the Victor's chair. Caesar greets her, makes a few jokes, and then the recap begins.

Maisie did her best to tune out what she was seeing. She pretended that the girl the cameras were following was someone else. A girl in a different life, who had to go on to murder other children. She pretended that she wasn't on stage with Caesar, but back home in her mother's house, watching it all on the holoscreen.

When the grueling three hours of torment was finally up, Maisie breathed a sigh of relief.

The President of Panem himself appears and sets the crown on her head. It was the first time she had ever seen the man in person, and he was every bit as scary in real life as he was on the holoscreen. He whispers his congratulations and hopes they have an amicable relationship going forward.

She and her team are taken to the President's Mansion for the Victory Banquet and meeting all her most generous sponsors and more government officials than she can keep track of. The parade of people lined up to meet her doesn't end soon, everyone wanting to shake her hands and asking to take photos, which she doubts she's allowed to refuse. She barely gets a few bites of the delicious soup that tastes like summer.

By the time they return to the Training Center's ninth floor, the sun is already setting. Her mother instructs her to sleep, and she's too exhausted to do anything else. As soon as her head hits the pillow, Maisie is out.

The next day she barely had time to eat a meal before her prep team was all over her. New make-up, hairstyle, and clothes soon followed. Napoleon promises that after the interview it'll all end for a while, and Maisie can't wait for the promised moment.

The interview takes place on the ninth floor, and Caesar is as nice as ever. She managed to get through it all without breaking her act, smiling the whole way through. Caesar, for his part, keeps the questions about the arena and her allies to a minimum, but he has to ask her, like every year. She answers, keeping the good-natured smile on her face.

When it finally ends, she goes to the bathroom to cry. After getting it out of her system, Maisie considers taking the dress she wore for the reaping but decides against it. It was full of too many memories. It would be a constant reminder of the monster she became.

The car ride from the Training Center to the train station is quick, and before she knows it, the train is already departing. As she watched the Capitol disappear behind her, for the first time it truly hit her; she was going home.

**Romeo Night**

**Private in District 13 Military**

Romeo bit into the soft bread of the, his eyes never leaving the holoscreen. Maisie was boarding her train, the announcer singing her praises. How it was such an exciting season, and that she couldn't wait until next year's games!

"You know, out of all the tributes, she was not the one I expected to win," Helene Dulac said to him. She walked by, taking the seat to his right. Just like him and everyone else in the mess hall, she was wearing the grey uniform of District 13. "My money was on Gleam. Either him or one of the pack."

"Think I would have won?" Neptune replied, sitting on his left. Just like him, they both had the same food, only Romeo had the biggest portion of all.

Helene nodded, popping off one of the peas in her mouth. "Oh yeah, pretty boy. Your good looks and relation to Finnick might have gotten you to the crown."

Neptune actually pouted, which Romeo couldn't help but laugh at. Helene smiled too. "And my deadly skills, right?"

Helene shook her head. "No. Just your good looks."

"Good looks, huh?" Neptune leaned across the table, smiling at her. "Helene, tell me how handsome I am."

On the screen, the train door close in front of Maisie., hiding her from view. The camera stayed on it as the train pulled out of the station. The official games broadcast ended.

"Where's Rance?" He asked the two before taking another bite of his bread.

"She's still with the weapons division," Helene answered, throwing one of her pea's at Neptune. "Apparently they're working on a way to hack into the Capitol's security network. Trying to see if they can get access to some of the lower security cameras."

Romeo couldn't imagine being stuck in a room all day, working on a project like that. It sounded boring as hell. Still, if it got her mind of Rye, he wasn't complaining. After her partner was killed, she spent the rest of the day crying. A certain sadness had followed her since. He hoped getting into the swing of things again would be able to help her.

Romeo looked over in time to see Neptune glance at the schedule on his arm. "Damn it. We have P.T. in fifteen. We better eat, or Commander Jackson will have us running until dinner."

**Author's Note:**

**Hello! I hope you have enjoyed the twenty-second chapter!**

**I know that in Canon people in thirteen are given the rank of soldier, but I'm just going to say that's the lowest rank, and Romeo had advanced to a private.**

**I hope you have enjoyed the final chapter of this story! I hope the games and side stories (which will continue into future stories that follow this one) and I hope you'll all consider checking out any future stories I post!**


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